A Father's Love
by Ildera
Summary: What is Hermione's true background? Is Voldemort all bad? Have i gone totally insane? Maybe. PLZ RR! I've changed the ending, but it's all finished now.
1. A Beginning

Harry Potter and co, and the world they live in do not, I repeat, not, belong to me, and so I am only borrowing them while my muse has a day out.  
  
Most of this one is written but if you want more, you'll just have to review, won't you? The rating is for a later chapter that is quite nasty. You have been warned.  
  
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin . . .  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
A Father's Love  
  
  
  
Aline smiled down at the sleeping baby girl curled into the crook of her arm. It had taken a lot of work to get this tiny beauty into the world, but she'd managed it. At last, tired but happy, she gazed on her daughter's wrinkled little face.  
  
'Welcome to the world, little one,' she whispered, kissing the top of the red forehead.  
  
The door creaked open slowly, and her husband stepped into the warm room. She beckoned him to sit on the bed, and he sank into the pillows beside her, with an audible sigh. His eyes went straight to the child, who gave him a long stare. With a jolt, he realised he had two identical pairs of eyes regarding him. A warmth spread through him. This was his daughter, and for only the second time in his life, he felt love.  
  
'She's beautiful, my love,' he breathed, for once almost looking human again. Long gone were the days when he could look at her without even a trace of his other persona marking his expression. The evil acts he had committed for years had left their taint on his soul.  
  
He gazed into Aline's eyes, and wondered, for the hundredth time, if she could bear the sorrow he would have to inflict upon her. Or if he would have to do what he must to ensure the child's survival.  
  
'My love, you know we cannot keep her with us.'  
  
Aline's cinnamon eyes widened in shock.  
  
'What?' she hissed. 'You cannot be thinking of taking her from me? Not so soon?'  
  
She shrank back on the bed, the small bundle cuddled tighter in her thin arms. Her husband sighed in exasperation.  
  
'You knew it would come, my love. You knew she would have to be hidden.'  
  
'Why? Why must my daughter be taken from me, when millions of mothers can hold their tiny ones close without fear of separation?'  
  
'Because she is my daughter, Aline. Were my enemies to discover her existence, they would use her against me.'  
  
'And are my feelings to be unaccounted for?'  
  
'If need be, yes. She must be hidden, with or without your consent.'  
  
The man leant across and stroked her hair. Aline stiffened at the tender touch.  
  
'You are not the man I married,' she said, turning away from him, and swinging her legs off the bed. She set the child in the cot nearby.  
  
'Where are you going?' he asked calmly, not sounding surprised at his cold reception.  
  
'I'm leaving,' Aline informed him, pulling out a bag, and filling it with clothes for both her and the baby. 'I'll go where no one knows me, where you haven't even been heard of. We'll both be safe there.'  
  
He stood and stared coldly at her, his eyes ripping into her fragile form, burning with an unearthly light.  
  
'That would not be wise, my love,' he said, coming to stand between her and the door. 'The child is to be my heir, and she must remain within reach where I can get to her without effort when the time comes.'  
  
Aline glared at the man she had once thought to be the love of her life.  
  
'Over my dead body,' she hissed.  
  
A cruel smile curved his thin lips.  
  
'If that is your wish, my love.'  
  
Only then did Aline realise that he held his wand in his hand, and the tip was pointed directly at her. She scarcely heard the fatal words, her lifeless body crumpling to the floor without a sound.  
  
As the wizard bent over the cot to lift the happily oblivious baby into his cold embrace, the door opened and a small wiry man scuttled in, falling into a clumsy bow before him.  
  
'You called for me, my lord?'  
  
'Yes,' he cradled the girl in his arms, watching her chest rise and fall with the rhythm of her breathing. 'You are to take my daughter and deliver her to the house of Lucius Malfoy. She will be brought up as his daughter there, until her time comes to take her place at my side. Do not fail me.'  
  
He placed the tiny bundle in the shaking man's arms, and watched as his only living kin was taken from his home. A strange pang gripped his heart, an organ he had long since given up on for all the emotion it provided him. It was almost as if he would never see her again.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
The wiry man hurried through the darkness, his precious package clutched close to his chest. Darting anxious glances into the bushes by the side of the road, he failed to notice that he had entered the one place where his magic would not work.  
  
A figure stepped out of the greenery, coming to a halt before him.  
  
'Well, well,' he said. 'If it isn't Gregory Crabbe.'  
  
The messenger spat at the unwelcome newcomer.  
  
'James Potter,' he snarled.  
  
James bowed, and straightened, gesturing towards the bundle held in Crabbe's arms.  
  
'For me, Crabbe? You shouldn't have.'  
  
Crabbe backed away, determined not to fail his master.  
  
'Stay away, Potter.'  
  
He drew his wand, and brandished it high, taking care not to drop the baby. James laughed scornfully.  
  
'And what do you think that's going to do? In case you hadn't noticed, you're on Hogwarts' property. That stick won't work here.'  
  
Crabbe swore, and slowly laid the child on the cold wet grass. She began to squirm in her blanket, emitting a high-pitched wail. James looked astonished.  
  
Under the cover of his surprise, Crabbe rushed him, bearing the man to the ground and knocking his wand from his hand. They rolled about, fists flailing. James fought to remove Crabbe's rapidly tightening grip from his body, kicking wildly at the desperate man. Finally his grip was broken, and James threw Crabbe back, away from him. Crabbe fell backwards, and landed heavily, his head falling with a sickening crack on a rock by the side of the road. He convulsed for a moment and then was still.  
  
James lay on the cold ground for a few minutes longer, breathing heavily, fighting to regain control of his lungs. He crawled over to Crabbe, and lifted the man's head. It fell back with an odd squishy sound, like fish being de-boned, and James looked in horror at the blood that stained his hand.  
  
'Oh, God.'  
  
Just as the contents of his stomach were about to take a trip to the outside world, a thin mewling sound drew his attention from his guilt to the tiny bundle by the side of the road. He knelt beside the blankets, pulling a fold away to reveal a little red face, screwed up with the effort of crying. He lifted the baby, and jogged her about, cooing softly under his breath. She was barely hours old, he realised. Slowly she quieted, gazing at him with the adoring stare a newborn will give anyone with time to spend with them. James looked back, a small smile tugging at his lips.  
  
'So you're the Dark Lord's little one, then?'  
  
He removed the body from the roadside, and hurried across the grounds to the school, the child pressed close to his chest.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
The anxious father gazed out through the scratched glass of the window, waiting for news of his daughter. A disembodied voice spoke to him from the fire, where Lucius Malfoy's head danced among the flames.  
  
'You summoned me, my lord?'  
  
'Yes, Lucius. I trust you have received my daughter favourably?'  
  
The dancing face looked confused for a moment.  
  
'My lord?'  
  
'The baby, Lucius, the child Crabbe was sent to deliver to you.'  
  
His voice took on a strained edge.  
  
'He has not arrived?'  
  
'No, my lord.'  
  
'Then where is he?'  
  
The sudden shout echoed off the walls of the empty chamber. Lucius winced, though did his best to cover it up. Slowly the father gained control of himself.  
  
'Thank you, Lucius, that will be all.'  
  
The face nodded to him, and disappeared into the crackling flames.  
  
Left alone, the man raised his wand and muttered an incantation into the fire. An image appeared, of two men talking on a darkened road. He watched in silence, as James and Crabbe fought. He showed no sign of loss when he found that Crabbe had died, feeling his blood boil as James took his daughter to Hogwarts, to that interfering old busybody, Dumbledore. His face darkened in anger as the images faded. He could feel the fury coursing through his veins.  
  
With anger in his heart, the Dark Lord Voldemort sat in the isolation of his room, the body of his dead wife cooling on the carpet, and his thoughts were on revenge. Revenge on James Potter, the man who stole his only daughter before she even had a name. 


	2. Whispers

'Hermione, wait up!'  
  
The seventeen-year-old girl stopped, turning as her friends caught up with her.  
  
'What's the big rush, Herm?' Ron demanded, wrapping a possessive arm about her shoulders and scowling at the other boys in their year, who were making eyes at his friend. Hermione rolled her eyes, and exchanged a weary sigh with Harry.  
  
'Nothing special, Ron, just wanted to get good seats for the Sorting,' she said, disentangling herself from his lanky limb.  
  
'Do anything over the holidays, Harry?'  
  
The Boy Who Lived shrugged deprecatingly, and grinned.  
  
'You know, the usual. Ate Dudley's diet, wrote to Sirius, blew up another set of obscure relatives, nothing to write home about.'  
  
Their laughter rang clearly through the Great Hall as they wandered in, others of their House demanding to know the joke.  
  
Scanning the faculty table with rich cinnamon eyes, Hermione noted that Professor Snape appeared to have acquired a large black dog over the summer. She nudged Harry.  
  
'Is that who I think it is?'  
  
He glanced over, and choked back a laugh. Sirius had laid his head in Snape's lap, and was refusing to move, despite the Potions Master's attempts to the contrary. As they watched, Sirius lifted both front paws onto Snape's knee, and gave him a good long sloppy lick on his pale cheek. At this, Snape pushed the huge dog away from him, and appeared to warn him rather severely, an action that involved gesticulating violently with his wand in Sirius' general direction. The three of them howled with laughter, drawing curious looks from their companions.  
  
Suddenly Hermione stopped laughing, her face taking on a troubled look.  
  
'Did you guys hear that?'  
  
Harry winced and touched his scar, running a worried finger over its familiar contours. Ron glanced between them.  
  
'Hear what, Herm?'  
  
She glanced around them.  
  
'Sounded like someone calling my name,' she mused.  
  
Harry groaned, and pressed the heel of his hand against the mark on his forehead.  
  
'There it is again,' Hermione said, turning to see if Harry was all right.  
  
Ron looked flummoxed.  
  
'I can't say I do, Herm,' he said, hoping she would drop it. 'Here, Harry, what's wrong with you?'  
  
'Headache,' Harry muttered meaningfully, ignoring the startled glance the redhead gave him.  
  
'You should tell Dumbledore,' Hermione told him, exchanging a concerned look with Ron.  
  
Harry gave her a look.  
  
'Don't start that again, Herm. It's just a little ache, that's all.'  
  
Hermione didn't look convinced.  
  
'Hey!' Ron pointed to the Great Doors. 'They're coming!'  
  
All noises and aches were forgotten in the rush of excitement they felt every year when new students were sorted into their respective Houses. Then the feast began, and they found themselves caught up in the news of the year, unable to discuss the strange happenings that had occurred.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione sat by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the silence that gave her a chance to ponder the voice that kept calling out to her. The others had gone to bed, no doubt to talk for hours before sleeping, but Hermione preferred to gaze into the crackling flames and think.  
  
'Hermione . . .'  
  
She groaned, and tried to shut out the pervasive tones. Whoever it was had been calling her for months now, whispering her name at the most awkward moments. She had tried to find a spell that would block it out, but to no avail. The wizard on the other end was a lot stronger than she was.  
  
'Hermione . . .'  
  
What? she thought, irritably. What do you want?  
  
There was a soft sound from the portrait hole, and looking up, Hermione saw Snape's new dog pad through, obviously looking for Harry. He spotted her, and came over, laying his head in her lap. With a quiet laugh, she shooed him away, scratching the big head as it turned to look at her.  
  
With a sound that can only be described as 'whoomph', Hermione was suddenly no longer stroking a dog, but rubbing her fingers through Sirius Black's mane of dark hair. He grinned as she pulled her hands hurriedly away.  
  
'Mind if I join you?' he asked, sitting beside her on the thick rug.  
  
'Not at all,' Hermione smiled. 'Harry and Ron have gone to bed, if you wanted to speak to them.'  
  
'Actually,' Sirius said, adjusting his position on the floor, 'it was you I came to speak to.'  
  
'Me?'  
  
He nodded.  
  
'Harry's scar hurt him at the feast, didn't it?'  
  
Hermione grimaced.  
  
'Yes. I've tried to get him to tell Dumbledore, but he just won't listen. He says there's no need to worry him.'  
  
Sirius looked concerned for a moment, before a hint of pride in his godson crept into his open face.  
  
'That sounds like Harry,' he said, smiling fondly. 'Any ideas what might have caused it?'  
  
He looked at her hopefully. Hermione started to shake her head, stopping as a thought occurred to her.  
  
'Well, it happened at the same time as something else.'  
  
Sirius leant forward, all traces of humour gone.  
  
'What happened?'  
  
Hermione tried not to squirm under his close scrutiny.  
  
'I thought I heard someone say my name. Twice, but no one else heard it. I thought it was my imagination.'  
  
'But?'  
  
She smiled self-consciously.  
  
'But I've been hearing voices for a few months now, and it's beginning to scare me.'  
  
Sirius frowned, obviously concerned for her.  
  
'What do these voices say?'  
  
Hiding her surprise at the intense way he looked at her, Hermione said,  
  
'Just my name, as if someone is calling to me from another room. It's not hostile or anything.'  
  
The man nodded, urging her to go on.  
  
'If anything, I'd say, whoever it is, they're lost, and need me to find their way home. They say my name the way my parents would.'  
  
At this, Sirius stiffened, his head slowly turning to look deep into her eyes.  
  
'Have you had any strange dreams, linked to these voices?'  
  
She shook her head.  
  
'No, just the voices. What's going on, Sirius?'  
  
Sirius took her hands in his, forcing her to look into his eyes.  
  
'I'm not sure, Hermione. I need you to do something for me, though.'  
  
'What?'  
  
'I need you to promise me that if you have any dreams that you think could have something to do with your frequent visitor, you will tell me. This is important, Hermione. Promise me.'  
  
Hermione, startled by his odd request, nodded dumbly.  
  
'Am I in some sort of danger?' she asked.  
  
Sirius shrugged.  
  
'I don't know. Not yet, I don't think. Anyway, don't worry. You've got Ron and Harry to protect you, not to mention Dumbledore and all the staff.'  
  
Hermione looked down at her small hands, intertwined with his.  
  
'And you,' she added shyly.  
  
He grinned, tilting her head back to look into his eyes.  
  
'And me,' he agreed. 'Now go to bed. You look like you need it.'  
  
He walked her up to her dorm, leaving her at the door and morphing back into the dog to return to Snape's quarters in the dungeons.  
  
Hermione slipped beneath the cool sheets, feeling sleep envelop her. And quietly, just on the edge of hearing, a soft voice called out to her.  
  
'Hermione . . .'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Sirius padded through the door, waiting until Snape had locked it before changing back into human form. The Potions Master looked disdainfully at him and sneered, turning back to his room.  
  
'He's started calling to her, Severus.'  
  
Snape froze, and spun slowly on his heel to face his companion.  
  
'You're sure?'  
  
'Certain as I can be without getting inside her head. You were right. I apologise.'  
  
Sirius nodded wearily at Snape as he sat heavily in one of two large leather armchairs by the fireside. The Professor pursed his lips and sat opposite him, dark eyes glittering in the orange light.  
  
'What do you propose we do?' he asked, more out of courtesy than of any real desire to know Sirius' thoughts.  
  
'I've told her to tell me if she has any dreams connected with the voices -'  
  
'Great stars, man! You didn't tell her the truth, did you?'  
  
Sirius' face stiffened. He glared at Snape, forcing the man to back down.  
  
'For your information, Snape, I'm not as thick as you think I am,' Sirius snarled. 'Of course I didn't tell her. What do you take me for, a fool?'  
  
Their eyes locked across the tiny space, Sirius daring Snape to agree. Neither gave way, Snape eventually breaking the tense silence to inquire,  
  
'Does she suspect?'  
  
'I hope not. Finding this out could destroy her. Not even you would want that.'  
  
'No,' Snape agreed. 'She must not know.' 


	3. Friendship

Hermione glared at her friends, shivering in the cold September air.  
  
'If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times,' she stated. 'There is no way you will ever get me up on one of these things voluntarily!'  
  
She flourished the broomstick with distaste, pushing it into Harry's arms.  
  
  
  
'Oh, come on, Herm,' Ron pleaded. 'Just a short flight? You never know, you might like it.'  
  
'I doubt it. Anyway, I've still got Snape's homework to do, and so should you,' she said, looking meaningfully at her two best friends.  
  
'We'll do it later. Come on, Hermione.'  
  
She sighed, and started to walk back to the school.  
  
'No,' she called over her shoulder. 'I've got better things to do than hurtle through the air on a bit of kindling.'  
  
Satisfied that they would leave her alone for at least a week now, Hermione made her way slowly up the hill to the imposing castle. There was a whooshing sound, and Ron grasped her around her waist, lifting her off her feet and into the air. As he set her on the broom in front of him, ignoring her shrieks for him to put her down, he flew higher, over the towers of their beloved school.  
  
Hermione took one look at the ground rushing past so far below them, and shut her eyes, fighting down the urge to be sick. For the first time in her life, she was thankful that Ron had his arm securely around her. She knew he wouldn't let her fall, but all the same, she was furious with him for frightening her so.  
  
'See, Herm?' he said, into her ear. 'It isn't that bad, is it?'  
  
'If you don't put me down right this instant, Ronald Weasley,' Hermione said through clenched teeth, 'I will hex you in ways you never thought possible.'  
  
Ron's eyes widened as he realised just how scared she was. Hermione never made threats unless she was petrified. It was just her determination to keep from completely humiliating herself that had stopped her from sobbing in terror.  
  
He slowed down, coming to a halt by the steps into the school, Harry a few seconds behind him. Hermione struggled out of Ron's grip, and turned to him, her face white with anger. She raised a trembling hand, and slapped him, hard, around his shocked face.  
  
'Don't you ever, ever, do that to me again.'  
  
With that, she whirled around, and ran into the castle, the tears already streaming down her face as the terror of the last few moments hit her.  
  
Ron raised a hand to his rapidly reddening cheek, exchanging a look with Harry.  
  
'I told you to leave it, Ron,' Harry said to him, climbing off his broom and glancing worriedly after Hermione. 'She's never liked brooms.'  
  
'I didn't know she was going to react like that, or I wouldn't have done it,' Ron protested. 'You should have heard her, Harry, she was terrified.'  
  
'I think you should apologise to her.'  
  
'Yeah, I think so, too.'  
  
The two boys looked up at the school.  
  
'It's going to have to be pretty spectacular, isn't it?'  
  
'You said it.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
For the next few days, Hermione avoided both of them, secluding herself in the library and eating alone. Ginny kept her company, having heard all about the fiasco from her brother.  
  
'You are the biggest idiot this world has ever known, Ron,' she'd told him. 'If you'd bothered to come to me, I could've told you Hermione is absolutely terrified of heights, you plonker.'  
  
Ron had hung his head, and quietly asked for her help in getting his friend's trust back. She'd come up with an idea, and explained it to them both with relish.  
  
Sitting next to Neville in Potions, Hermione noticed a small piece of paper had made its way onto her desk from the boys. Carefully opening it so as not to attract Snape's attention, she read,  
  
'You probably won't accept it if we just say we're sorry, but with any luck this should help you believe us. What's the one thing we're most scared of in school?  
  
Harry and Ron.'  
  
Hermione looked over at them, and realised they were looking rather pale, as if they were steeling themselves for an unpleasant experience. Glancing over, Harry gave her a nervous smile, taking in a deep breath.  
  
Snape noticed the smile, and immediately bore down on the hapless boy.  
  
'May I remind you, Mr Potter, that lessons are for learning, not for stealing intimate looks with your amore? Twenty points from Gryffindor.'  
  
Harry stiffened, swallowing against his fright.  
  
'What would you know about it, you greasy git?'  
  
The entire class, both Slytherin and Gryffindor, gasped as one, turning astonished eyes on Harry as Snape drew himself up imposingly. By the door, Sirius put a paw over his eyes.  
  
'I will not ask you to repeat that, Mr Potter. One week's detention, and fifty points from Gryffindor.'  
  
Beside a forlorn Harry, Ron spoke up.  
  
'Why do you always pick on Harry? You're just a sad miserly bastard, aren't you, Professor?'  
  
Hermione stifled a giggle at Snape's expression, awe-struck that her friends would go though all this to win her favour back. She was definitely going to make this up to them.  
  
Snape, if possible, looked even paler than usual.  
  
'A week of detention for you, also, Mr Weasley, and another fifty points from Gryffindor. And if I hear another word from either of you, the Headmaster shall hear of your rebellious behaviour.'  
  
The boys looked at one another, and swallowed.  
  
'Oooh, you know I'm really scared,' Ron declared, in a sarcastic voice that belied his quaking body.  
  
'Save me, Ron, save me!' Harry cried, wrapping his arms around his friend, and hiding his head in his shoulder.  
  
Snape looked ready to explode. The class began to laugh, realising that there was nothing more their Professor could do to the mischievous pair. Under the furious eye of the Potions Master, Harry and Ron continued to play-act, winding him up as tight as they could before,  
  
'Mr Potter! Mr Weasley! One hundred points from Gryffindor, and remove yourselves from this classroom immediately. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will be honoured to see you.'  
  
Grinning sheepishly at their outraged Housemates, the boys packed up their belongings and walked out. As order returned to the gobsmacked class, Hermione exchanged a glance with Sirius. She hoped they wouldn't be too badly disciplined for this.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Nervously, Harry and Ron stood outside Dumbledore's office, waiting for the gargoyle to let them in.  
  
'D'you think it worked?' Harry asked.  
  
Ron snorted.  
  
'It had better have,' he replied, watching the wall swing inwards with trepidation.  
  
They exchanged a final terrified look and walked into the office.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Two hours later, they bounced into the Gryffindor common room, wearing huge grins. Their friends looked at them in astonishment. They'd seen their House points go down two hundred and twenty, and then go back up two hundred, and were now demanding an explanation.  
  
Hermione threw herself into their arms, laughing with them.  
  
'I can't believe you did that, you are so brave!' she said, sitting with them on the sofa.  
  
Ron and Harry grinned.  
  
'Are we forgiven?'  
  
Hermione smiled at them.  
  
'Are you kidding? I will make this up to you, I promise.'  
  
'No, you won't,' Harry said, and Ron added, 'This was our apology and I'm not going to let you outdo us.'  
  
They laughed, and turned to the rest of their House who were still patiently awaiting an explanation.  
  
'Come on, what happened?'  
  
'Well, you all know we had an argument with Hermione, didn't you? Our performance with Snape was our apology, that's all.'  
  
'And when we got to Dumbledore's office, he was so impressed, he awarded us with a hundred House points each for being brave enough to do what we did.'  
  
'So, really, we only lost twenty points!'  
  
'And the amazing trio is reunited!'  
  
The common room roared with laughter, cheering the bravery of their two most popular students. They all agreed it would be a sad loss to Hogwarts when the wonder trio left at the end of the year. 


	4. Dreams

She walked slowly beside the lake, gazing into its dark depths, lost in thought. Her cinnamon eyes held a lost look, as though she were looking for a memory that had long since been forgotten. Long smooth chestnut hair flowed down her back, whipped about by the stiff breeze that blew along the water. She shivered, her hands coming up to rub her arms. Clad only in a thin gown of green silk, she waited.  
  
He came, walking slowly from the shadows beneath the trees, his eyes burning with an unearthly light. His black cloak hung loosely on his wiry frame, and swept the ground at his feet. Despite his fearsome appearance, she felt no urge to run, or scream, simply content to watch him approach without fear.  
  
A thin skeletal hand emerged from the cloak to stroke her windswept hair from her face. As she looked up, into his face, it was then that she felt the fear begin to overwhelm her. She stiffened and drew away from his touch.  
  
'What is it?' he asked, eyes reflecting concern for her that had to be false. She couldn't bear it if he was actually worried for her.  
  
'What are you doing here?'  
  
He smiled grimly, his hand still outstretched to touch her.  
  
'I have always been here. I am part of you.'  
  
She shook her head, backing away.  
  
'You can't be,' she whispered. 'I am against you.'  
  
'You weren't always.'  
  
He stepped towards her, and she found she could not move away.  
  
'But you are evil! You are the Dark Lord, I have never supported you!'  
  
Voldemort sighed sadly.  
  
'I should have known you would forget me. I knew you only for a few moments, before you were taken from me.'  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
The Dark Lord looked at her in sorrow, his hand still clutching a strand of her chestnut hair.  
  
'Come to me. Join with me, my daughter, and rule the world as you were born to do.'  
  
Hermione woke with a start, slipping out of bed and running to the bathroom to throw up. Leaning her head against the cool porcelain bowl, she tried to take in what she had just heard.  
  
'It can't be true,' she muttered. 'It was just a dream, Hermione.'  
  
There was moisture on her face. Licking her lips, she was horrified to taste the salty water of the lake. Could it really have happened?  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Professor Mulqueen snapped her fingers before Hermione's face. The girl jumped, blushing when she realised the entire class was looking at her.  
  
'Yes, Professor?'  
  
'I asked you, Miss Granger, for the six ways to spot a werewolf. Most unusual for you to be daydreaming.'  
  
Hermione flushed even darker and rattled off the required information, cursing herself deep down for letting her dreams begin to invade her schoolwork. Ignoring the curious looks she was getting from her friends, she focused on the lesson, refusing to let her mind wander again. Despite the simplicity of the lesson itself, she found that it helped her no end in her mission to drive the invasive presence from her mind.  
  
She walked along the chilly corridors with her friends, pausing as they passed the stairs to the dungeon. Ron sighed gloomily, and gave his books and satchel to his friends.  
  
'I hope you appreciate this,' he said, waving a finger under her nose. 'Three out of five detentions I've done so far and they're getting worse.'  
  
'I know what you mean,' Harry agreed. 'Mine's later.'  
  
They parted, Ron hurrying down the steps, and Harry and Hermione towards their tower. Hermione seemed to be lost in thought.  
  
'Hermione,' Harry said, drawing her out of her own head for a moment. 'Is there something wrong?'  
  
'Wrong? No, nothing,' Hermione said, but something in her tone made him continue,  
  
'It's just that it's not like you to daydream, especially in class, and I was wondering if something was bothering you.'  
  
She smiled at him, noticing how open his green eyes were as they gazed on her. Should I tell him? she wondered.  
  
'It's nothing to worry about, Harry,' she assured him, as they stopped before the Fat Lady. 'Dudley Dursley.'  
  
The portrait swung in, muttering about Harry's inappropriate choice for a password that week. Harry had completely run out inspiration, and so the name of his hated cousin was the password that enabled the Gryffindors to enter their own tower.  
  
The two of them settled by the window to discuss their homework. Whilst in the middle of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Hermione blurted out,  
  
'Harry, has your scar been hurting you recently?'  
  
Harry looked defensive.  
  
'How did you know?'  
  
'Please, Harry, I need to know. When does it hurt you?'  
  
'Most nights, usually around two or three in the morning.'  
  
Harry looked at her suspiciously.  
  
'Why do you want to know?'  
  
Hermione looked away, before leaning in closer and whispering,  
  
'I've been having this recurring dream recently, and it's really weirding me out.'  
  
'Tell me.'  
  
She did, describing the dream to him in as much detail as possible.  
  
'I'm really scared, Harry. Why would Voldemort be trying to convince me I'm his daughter? I'm not even a pureblood witch.'  
  
Harry sat in silence for a few minutes.  
  
'Have you told Sirius?'  
  
'Why should I?'  
  
'You promised him you would.'  
  
Hermione hissed under her breath.  
  
'He told you.'  
  
Harry caught her hands as she tried to rise from their seat.  
  
'He asked me to keep an eye on you, that's all. He's really worried about you, 'Mione.'  
  
She looked at him, fear in her cinnamon eyes.  
  
'What am I going to do, Harry?'  
  
He pulled her into a hug, her head resting against his shoulder. His green eyes were troubled, clouded with worry for his friend.  
  
'You have to tell Sirius,' he said, tightening his grip on her. 'He might know what's going on.'  
  
He pulled back, looking deep into her eyes.  
  
'I'm here for you, 'Mione, if you need me. Whenever you need me. And the same goes for Ron, though I doubt he'll ever say it out loud. Don't keep things to yourself. Especially not now.'  
  
Hermione gazed into his eyes, brushing a lock of black hair from his face.  
  
'Thank you, Harry.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Sirius padded into the seventh-year girl's dorm, and tugged on Hermione's sleeve. She woke almost instantly, following him down into the common room when it became clear he wanted to speak to her.  
  
He morphed into human shape as she sat in an armchair.  
  
'What's this about dreams?' he demanded.  
  
Hermione groaned.  
  
'I'm really not in the mood for this, Sirius.'  
  
'That makes no difference. You promised you would tell me, and now I hear that you've been having dreams for the last few weeks?'  
  
He knelt before her, searching her eyes for the truth.  
  
'What's been happening, Hermione?'  
  
Tears began to leak from beneath Hermione's tightly closed eyelids as she told him everything, of Voldemort's nightly visits, of his insistence that she was his daughter, and of the feeling that he might be right.  
  
'That's what scares me most,' she sobbed. 'What if he is right? I could be the Dark Lord's daughter!'  
  
Sirius shook her shoulders gently.  
  
'Enough of that,' he chided. 'Even if it is true, there is no reason for you to believe that he could change you. You are yourself, Hermione, and the sudden appearance of him as your father would do nothing to change what makes you you. You are a good, loving girl, Hermione, and I would die before I see him take that away from you. Do you understand me?'  
  
She nodded, suppressing the sobs that were still rising in her chest.  
  
'Now, I'll go and speak to Snape about this, maybe he can come up with a potion to protect your dreams. Go back to bed, Hermione, and don't worry. You'll be fine.'  
  
Feeling slightly better, but not much, Hermione trailed back up to her bed, slipping between the sheets with a sigh. She had a feeling whatever Snape came up with, wouldn't be enough. 


	5. Lies

Ron tapped politely on the table for everyone's attention. The entire common room ignored him, everyone too interested in their own conversations to pay any attention to him. Finally he gave up.  
  
'QUIET!'  
  
Everyone jumped, and turned to face him. Ron smiled beatifically at them.  
  
'Ahem. I have the honour to announce that our very own Hermione Granger turns eighteen tomorrow!'  
  
Hermione groaned and shuffled down in her seat, amid cheers. Harry grinned at her from the fireplace, where he had been playing chess with Ron.  
  
'And,' Ron continued, oblivious to his friend's acute embarrassment, 'I would also like to announce that we are holding a party tomorrow evening for her!'  
  
The cheers were even louder this time, and many people turned to congratulate Hermione, who was glaring in mock anger at Ron.  
  
'Announcement over!'  
  
He sat back down and grinned at Hermione.  
  
'What?'  
  
She laughed, and went back to her reading, shaking her head. Harry watched her for a few moments, an odd look in his eyes, before returning to the game. He winced suddenly as his scar shot white-hot pain through his head.  
  
Looking over at Hermione, he saw her face pale, and she got up and left the room. No one noticed her go.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
The party was in full swing by the time Harry got there the next evening. Nervously, he fingered the little box that held his gift to Hermione. He hoped she'd like it. He spotted Ron, and made his way over to him.  
  
'Harry! You made it!'  
  
'You kidding? I wouldn't have missed this for the world!'  
  
'How was your detention?'  
  
'Oh, fantastic.'  
  
Ron grinned at him.  
  
'Have you got it?'  
  
Harry smiled tightly, and nodded.  
  
'I hope she likes it. Are you sure you don't mind?'  
  
'Positive. I'd rather she was with you than anyone else.'  
  
'Thanks, Ron. Where is she?'  
  
'Last I saw, she was going up to the dorm to change. She's probably still there.'  
  
'Right.'  
  
Ron caught his friend's arm as he turned away.  
  
'Good luck, Harry.'  
  
Harry wound his way between the people, slipping up the stairs and knocking on the girls' door.  
  
'Who is it?'  
  
'It's Harry. Are you decent?'  
  
Hermione opened the door.  
  
'Of course, I'm decent. Come in.'  
  
She turned away and picked up her hairbrush, dragging it through her hair.  
  
'So what's up, Harry?'  
  
He coughed.  
  
'I was about to ask you the same question.'  
  
She frowned at him via the mirror.  
  
'What?'  
  
'I didn't get a chance to speak to you about what happened yesterday. What did Voldemort say this time?'  
  
Hermione froze. Slowly, she put the brush down, and turned to face him.  
  
'He told me my mother's name was Aline and that he killed her a few hours after I was born.'  
  
Harry winced.  
  
'Shit, Hermione.'  
  
She looked as if she was about to cry. Harry resisted the urge to hug her, knowing if he did, he wouldn't say what he intended to.  
  
'Look, I know you probably don't need to hear this right now, but there's something I've been meaning to say.'  
  
He fumbled with his pocket as Hermione wiped her tears away, watching him curiously. Finally he drew a small blue velvet box from his pocket, and pushed it into her hand. As she looked down to open it, he plunged on,  
  
'I really, really like you, Hermione. Not just as a friend, but really, more. You're smart and funny, and incredibly pretty . . .'  
  
His voice trailed off as Hermione opened the box. Inside lay a gold pendant, set with tiny rubies, on a thin gold chain.  
  
'Oh.'  
  
His hands shook as he fastened the chain about her neck.  
  
'Gryffindor colours,' he mumbled sheepishly, certain she thought he was a fool.  
  
'Harry, it's beautiful, thank you,' she breathed, not knowing quite how to react to his declaration. She turned to where he stood, head hung low, staring at his hands.  
  
'I like you, too, Harry. I have for a long time.'  
  
His eyes rose to meet hers, full of boyish optimism.  
  
'You do?'  
  
She smiled shyly.  
  
'Yes.'  
  
His face broke into a wide genuine smile, as he stepped forward to embrace her. Hermione sighed happily into his shoulder, glad they'd finally cleared the air.  
  
As Harry pulled away, she looked up at him, cinnamon eyes meeting green ones. He leant down, his breathing ragged, and lightly brushed her lips with his. Hermione's hands tightened on him, and she kissed him back, pressing her slight frame against him. They pulled back, breathless, gazing into each other's eyes.  
  
'Happy birthday, Hermione.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Lost in a silent world of dreams, Hermione again found herself walking along the lakeside, this time determined not to let him scare her. She walked resolutely to the shadows he inhabited, and called him out, not ready to wait for him.  
  
Voldemort approached, wary of her. She seemed less afraid of him tonight, but he wasn't altogether sure it was a good sign. There was an aura about her that suggested she thought herself safe from him, and it was unsettling.  
  
'You called, Hermione?'  
  
She steeled herself against the urge to run, knowing it was useless while he haunted her dreams.  
  
'Yes, I did,' she began. 'I'm sick and tired of this. Say what you have to say, and let me sleep in peace!'  
  
He raised an eyebrow, unruffled by her outburst.  
  
'Very well. I am your father; there is no point in you denying this. If you asked your precious Dumbledore, he would tell you so himself. Your mother dared to defy me and I killed her. You were sent away shortly after, to be brought up in the home of my trusted companion. On the way, your protector was attacked and killed, and you were stolen by an Auror. His name was James Potter.'  
  
Hermione gasped.  
  
'I had my revenge on him and his family, but at a greater cost than I suspected. And you were raised by Muggles, where none of my followers thought to look.'  
  
Backing away, shaking her head against the terrible thought that she had caused the death of Harry's parents, Hermione stared at him. This couldn't be true, it couldn't. But what if it was? Voldemort took a step towards her.  
  
'You will stand by my side, Hermione, as my daughter and heir. Together we will destroy the Muggle world and leave the wizards to rule over all.'  
  
'Never! I'll never do that!'  
  
She heard his haunting tones as the dream faded, her body fighting to wake up.  
  
'Happy birthday to you . . .' 


	6. Truth

She stumbled along the hallways, sobbing in terror. Reaching the familiar gargoyle, she tapped on its head, desperate to get inside. With a stony rumble, it turned to look at her.  
  
'Password?' it rasped.  
  
'I don't care what the sodding password is, just let me in!'  
  
With an injured sniff, the gargoyle stepped aside with as much dignity as it could muster. Hermione gathered the shreds of her composure about her and stumbled through, into the office, where three pairs of eyes looked at her, alarmed. Dumbledore rose to his feet, looking concerned.  
  
'Hermione?'  
  
His voice, such a trusted, well loved sound, made the tears flow again. Her knees buckled, and she fell heavily against Sirius, who leapt up to catch her. He guided her to a seat, and, aided by Snape, encouraged her to drink a little wine. As the colour returned to her cheeks, and her sobs died away, the three men exchanged anxious looks.  
  
Dumbledore knelt beside her, his hands covering hers.  
  
'What is wrong, Hermione?'  
  
Swallowing yet another wave of tears, Hermione looked down into his eyes.  
  
'Please, Professor, is Voldemort my father?'  
  
His cheery face looked troubled for a moment as he reluctantly nodded his head. Hermione closed her eyes against the terrible news.  
  
'Why didn't anyone tell me?'  
  
'We were afraid that the shock would destroy you, my dear. It is unfortunate that we didn't foresee his telling you himself, but what's said is said.'  
  
Hermione wasn't listening.  
  
'How am I going to tell Harry?' she whispered, the pain in her voice almost too much for the old wizard to bear. 'How do I tell him that I'm the reason his parents died?'  
  
Sirius leant forward.  
  
'That's nonsense, Hermione. No one is to blame for that, least of all you.'  
  
'But if I hadn't been born, he wouldn't have sent me away, and James wouldn't have found me. It's because of that the Potters were killed!'  
  
Sirius looked from her distraught face to Dumbledore and Snape, both of whom looked distinctly uneasy. He couldn't think of anything to say that would relieve her distress. Oddly, it was Snape who spoke up, saying what she needed to hear.  
  
'Miss Granger, do you believe a child has control over the actions of it's parents?'  
  
Hermione shook her head, confused.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Well, because a child hasn't got the knowledge necessary to take responsibility for such things,' she said, her tone betraying her puzzlement at his questions.  
  
'And you still think that you are responsible for the Potters' deaths? Even after what you have just said?'  
  
Hermione frowned, her sobs quieting. Sirius relaxed.  
  
'I'm afraid to say, Hermione,' Dumbledore said, 'that Voldemort may soon be coming for you. He is determined that you will be his heir, and nothing will dissuade him. You may be the key to his downfall.'  
  
Hermione stared at him, feeling terror work away at her already battered heart.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
She was admitted to the Hospital Wing for sleep deprivation, where Madame Pomfrey could keep an eye on her until she was well rested enough to resist the Dark Lord once again. Her friends were told she had a mild touch of 'flu. Harry and Ron plonked themselves on her bed, ready to hear her side of the story.  
  
'So what's really wrong with you, Herm?' Ron said, noticing with concern the dark circles under her eyes.  
  
'You really don't want to know, Ron,' Hermione tried to smile, but they could see something was hurting her badly.  
  
'Tell us, 'Mione,' Harry urged, upset by the tears in her eyes. 'We'll understand.'  
  
Hermione shook her head.  
  
'You won't.'  
  
'Try us.'  
  
Harry stroked her hair from her face, as Hermione wrestled with her decision. Finally she gave in, knowing that whatever she said, they would make their own minds up.  
  
'You know I've been having these dreams lately?'  
  
They nodded, curious to know what had put their friend in hospital.  
  
'Well,' Hermione steeled herself for their rejection, 'it's all true. I am his daughter.'  
  
She shut her eyes, waiting for them both to storm off in fury and refuse ever to speak to her again. All she heard was Ron swearing quietly, and felt Harry's hands on hers, squeezing gently.  
  
''Mione?' Harry said quietly. 'It doesn't matter.'  
  
Her eyes snapped open. They were both looking at her with concern, concern for her, not that she might suddenly leap up and kill them.  
  
'But it does matter, Harry,' she protested. 'It matters a lot.'  
  
They were shaking their heads, and she resisted the sudden urge to knock their heads together.  
  
'Harry, I'm the reason your parents were killed,' she said quietly. 'Now do you see?'  
  
Harry froze, his mind fighting to deal with what she'd just said. Ron looked from Harry to Hermione, and quietly excused himself, pleading a large amount of homework that was just waiting for him to get started on. Somehow, Hermione doubted it.  
  
'What do you mean, 'Mione?'  
  
She told him, tears running down her cheeks as she tried to push him away. She wasn't quite sure how, but suddenly he was sitting on the bed beside her, holding her in his arms and rocking from side to side. He kissed her hair, and whispered into her ear,  
  
'None of that is your fault. You couldn't stop yourself being born. You had nothing to do with Voldemort's decision to send you away, or my father deciding to fight whoever it was for you. Hermione, if he hadn't, you would have grown up as one of them, and I would never have met you. You mean more to me than the fact that you're not a Muggleborn, or that you're his daughter. All I care about is that you want me, 'Mione. Do you?'  
  
Lifting her head from his shoulder, she gazed into his eyes accusingly.  
  
'Of course I want you!' she whispered.  
  
'Then that's all that matters,' he said, kissing her.  
  
They sat together, sharing in the painful joy of having found each other. They were determined never to let go.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Christmas approached, and Hermione's foster parents were informed of their daughter's predicament. They came to Hogwarts, where Hermione learnt that they were wizards, sent into the Muggle world to protect her from her father. They were trained Aurors, and would now join the ranks of their comrades, ready to do battle with the Dark Lord when the time came. Hermione would spend her holidays at Hogwarts, and be moved to a safe house after her graduation.  
  
The announcement was made that this year would see another Yule Ball, much like the one they held when Hogwarts hosted the Tri-Wizard Tournament, with the exception that all years were to be included. This was to lighten the gloom that had fallen on the school upon learning that Voldemort was preparing to attack.  
  
Despite the injunction that everyone was to go with a partner, the whole school was buzzing with the news. Predictably, Harry invited Hermione to go with him, and between them, they engineered a pairing of Ron and Parvati, who had fancied each other for years. Ginny persuaded Neville to take her, pouring on the charm until he gave up in desperation, unable to cope with the thought that a girl actually liked him.  
  
The Ball was a great success, taking the danger off the minds of many of the students. Even the teachers had paired off, the Snape/Mulqueen pairing surprising many of the students. Everyone knew Snape resented her, a former pupil, for beating him to the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Still, they seemed to get along fine.  
  
The highlight of the evening was the moment when Professor Dumbledore made his Grand Announcement. He and Professor McGonagall were married. They were cheered so loudly, even the house-elves came out to see what the fuss was about. The happy couple led the first waltz, enjoying the attention from the younger awe-struck pupils, and the comments from the older students, who'd probably already guessed.  
  
Hermione was astonished when Snape claimed her for a dance, closely followed by Hagrid, and then Dumbledore. Harry partnered their discarded companions for each dance, each time coming back with crimson cheeks. They discovered that evening that they were the school's golden couple, encouraged to lead all the slow dances so that people could watch and companionably envy them.  
  
Unbeknownst to any who reveled that night, a lonely father felt pride in his heart for the first time, watching as his daughter shone for all to see. And the seeds of revenge were sown in his being, as he put a name to her companion. Soon, he would have his daughter by his side, and then, yes, then Harry Potter would feel his anger. 


	7. An Eventful Night

'Hermione?'  
  
Ginny's whisper cut through the darkness, waking the sleeping girl opposite her.  
  
'What . . . what is it?'  
  
The fear in Ginny's voice communicated itself loud and clear to Hermione as she struggled to sit up.  
  
'There's a snake on the floor!'  
  
With a small cry, Hermione lit her wand, scuttling up in bed so as to be as far from the floor as possible. Sure enough, slithering towards her bed, was a long green snake, with eyes that burned red. There was a 'whoomph', and suddenly the snake was gone, replaced by a tall dark figure, who gazed on the terrified girls impassively.  
  
Ginny gave a short shriek as she realised who it was, waking the other girls. They all began to shout, silencing as Voldemort's cold gaze swept over them, returning to rest on Hermione. She shrank back against the headboard, as if the old wood could hide her in some way from the truth that was about to be told.  
  
'Hermione.'  
  
The single word dropped from his tongue like ice, no warmth in the way he addressed his daughter. A quavering voice cut through the silence.  
  
'You leave her alone, you hear me? She wants nothing to do with you!'  
  
Hermione could have cried.  
  
No, Ginny, no, she thought. Don't try and help me. He'll kill you.  
  
The Dark Lord turned and glared at the brave girl, who stood in front of her friends, her wand outstretched but trembling. He raised his own wand, and hers went flying from her grip, clattering to the floor.  
  
Hermione felt more than saw his lips begin to form the Cruciatus, and began to sob in terror, drawing his attention back onto her.  
  
'Please, don't hurt her, don't hurt any of them, please . . .'  
  
He regarded her impassively, turning back to the trembling redhead with the words,  
  
'If you are to be my heir, you must learn to harden your heart, my daughter.'  
  
A gasp ran around the room, as seven sets of astonished eyes turned to look at Hermione. Only Ginny's eyes remained on Voldemort, and only she saw him raise his wand.  
  
There was a hammering on the door, and the knob began to turn. Voldemort threw a charm at the ancient wood, causing whoever was turning the knob to leap back in pain and alarm. The hammering began again, voices calling through the door.  
  
'Hermione? Hermione, are you all right?'  
  
The sound of Harry's voice made her sob harder, knowing that Voldemort would turn on him the moment he broke through the door. Voldemort smiled, seeing the distress on every face around him. His wand came up again, and this time there was nothing to distract him.  
  
Ginny dropped to the floor with a scream, writhing in agony. Hermione cried out, as her father turned on her friends. He singled out Lavender, and gestured to her to come forwards. The hammering intensified, Ron's voice joining Harry's.  
  
'Ginny!'  
  
There were cries for someone to fetch Dumbledore, and Madame Pomfrey. It sounded as if the entire Gryffindor Wing had roused and were ready to protect their friends. Lavender stepped forward, mesmerised by the Dark Lord's presence. With a cruel smile, he raised his wand a second time.  
  
Hermione threw herself off the bed and into the path of the curse. Her screams joined Ginny's as she, too, dropped to the carpet. Voldemort seemed taken aback, surprised that she would have the strength of will to deny him like this. He stared at her writhing form, feeling an alien emotion creep into him. Guilt? Why should he feel guilt? Slowly it dawned on him. Because he had hurt his own daughter. She was in pain because of him. Unsettled, unsure of himself, he hurried to the window, leaping out and transforming his shape into that of an owl.  
  
As the girls edged forwards to gather around the softly moaning shapes, the door finally burst open, and Dumbledore, Snape, Harry, and Ron all piled in. Snape moved straight to the window, knowing, even as he did so, the dark shape was out of range. Dumbledore removed the curses, allowing the girls reprieve from the agonising burning that permeated their being. As Ron and Harry moved to hold them in their arms, Madame Pomfrey arrived, selecting them to carry the girls up to the Hospital Wing.  
  
Dumbledore reassured those remaining that the action was over for the evening, setting memory charms on the girls in the dormitory before allowing them to drift off to sleep again. As they left, he and Snape exchanged a glance, scanning the floor and searching dark corners before finally leaving. Under the cover of darkness, a rat slipped out from behind the glowing embers of the fire, and watched them leave, eyes too cold and calculating to be rodent.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione rolled over and opened her eyes, finding herself gazing into Harry's concerned face.  
  
'I seem to be spending a lot of time in here,' she remarked, noting her place in the Hospital Wing.  
  
Over his shoulder, she could see Ron talking with Ginny, who was sat up in the next bed along the row. The younger girl was pale, but animated, obviously recounting events of the previous night. She felt Hermione's eyes on her, and smiled, drawing a guilty smile from her friend. Harry relaxed a little.  
  
'How do you feel?' he asked.  
  
Hermione grimaced, her body felt like it had been put through a mangle. Twice.  
  
'Fine,' she managed, pulling herself up to a sitting position. 'How are the others?'  
  
'They're okay,' Harry told her. 'A little shocked, but on the whole, still in one piece. They've told Dumbledore what happened, so you don't have to worry about that.'  
  
A memory flashed in front of Hermione's eyes.  
  
'Lavender . . .'  
  
Harry shushed her, stroking his thumbs over her knuckles.  
  
'She's fine. You got there in time.'  
  
He pressed his forehead against hers, looking deep into her eyes.  
  
'That was a very brave thing you did, 'Mione. I don't think I could have done it.'  
  
Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes.  
  
'Oh, Harry, of course, you could have. I wasn't brave, just stupid. I thought I could stop him -'  
  
'You did.'  
  
A voice cut into the silence. Looking up, they saw Dumbledore standing at the foot of the bed.  
  
'Good morning, Hermione. I trust you're not feeling as terrible as you did last night?'  
  
Hermione blinked.  
  
'Why, how was I feeling last night?'  
  
Bright blue eyes twinkled in an aged cheerful face.  
  
'I believe your exact words were, 'Oh, God, how many times did I throw myself under that bus'. Apart from that, you were quite incomprehensible for most of the evening. I hope you are somewhat recovered?'  
  
She blushed, looking down at her hands, still entwined with Harry's. He gave them a reassuring squeeze, smiling down at her with openly amused eyes.  
  
'Yes, well. I'm feeling much better, thank you, Professor.'  
  
Dumbledore smiled and nodded, coming around to sit on the bed.  
  
'Good. As I was saying, with your remarkably well timed dive into the Cruciatus, you did, in fact, stop Voldemort. From what I can gather, he was so mortified at having hurt you, he leapt out of the window and flew off.'  
  
The two students frowned.  
  
'Why would he do that?' Harry asked, as Hermione laid her head on his shoulder. She felt so sleepy, she allowed herself to lull as Dumbledore continued.  
  
'I believe it is because Hermione is the only thing he has ever truly loved, Harry. She is his daughter, he has loved her since the day she was born. The only problem is, he doesn't know how to approach her without resorting to his scare tactics.'  
  
Dumbledore gazed calmly at Hermione, who gave him a drowsy smile.  
  
'It is his unfamiliarity with his emotions that may help us to defeat him. My guess is that he is now feeling guilt over your injuries, and will soon return to ascertain your health. For now, that will be his only concern.'  
  
He stood, having noticed a stern looking Madame Pomfrey advancing down the aisle towards him. She was glaring at him, her arms already beginning the actions that spelled out just how angry she was.  
  
'You must excuse me, I'm afraid. The wicked medi-witch of the west is about to throw me out for worrying her patients.'  
  
Amid the quiet giggles of all four students, Albus Dumbledore, HeadMaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was thrown out of the Hospital Wing by an irate Madame Poppy Pomfrey, protesting all the way.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Defence Against the Dark Arts was doubled in the aftermath of the attack, leaving the students in no doubt that they were in danger. Word had spread of Hermione's parentage, and now she was looked upon by many as an enemy. The Slytherins, however, seemed to revere her, protecting the frightened girl from the threats directed at her by others of the school. Draco Malfoy had even gone so far as to offer his services as her bodyguard.  
  
Now that had gone down well in the Gryffindor common room.  
  
'He didn't!'  
  
Parvati had shrieked with laughter, rolling around in front of the fire in hysterics. Even Nearly Headless Nick had seen the funny side, his ghostly guffaws echoing through the tower.  
  
Through all this, Harry and Hermione's relationship continued to strengthen, the two of them growing closer each day. They fitted so well together, they could finish each other's sentences, or say exactly the same thing simultaneously. They watched Ron and Parvati's relationship grow as well, those two quite happy to amble through life as if they'd already seen the joke.  
  
And so, as Easter approached, and there had been no sign of Voldemort, some semblance of normality began to return to Hogwarts. Students went home, or stayed behind for the holidays, and no one was any the wiser, that in the shadows of the Forbidden Forest, someone was waiting to make his move. 


	8. Father

Harry soared through the air, ignoring Malfoy's insinuating presence at his shoulder, his entire being focused on the Snitch. He knew that if they won this match, Gryffindor would win the Cup. However, the same could be said for Slytherin, who were level-pegging with their rival House. But Harry also had his sweetheart supporting him, and Slytherin were not about to do anything to incur her anger, even something as trivial as winning the Quidditch House Cup. Part of him was outraged at this easy win, but another part of him was thankful for it. He'd not had a decent night's sleep in weeks.  
  
Since the school's return after Easter, Voldemort had been making nightly excursions to Hermione's bedside, sitting by her, unable to speak or even move, for fear of waking her and seeing her frightened eyes upon him. Because of his presence so close, Harry had been woken frequently by searing pain on his brow that sent him stumbling through the tower to Hermione's side. Voldemort would be gone by the time he arrived, but Hermione would be awake, wide-eyed, and ready to collapse into his arms, sobbing in terror.  
  
He was instantly aware of a Bludger heading straight their way, and ducked to avoid it. The six-pound rock hit Malfoy square on the forehead, knocking him out cold. Harry was left, as the only Seeker on the pitch, to find the Snitch and catch it, before the same could happen to him.  
  
The little golden ball whizzed past his face, it's tiny wing cutting his cheek as it swerved to avoid him. Ignoring the pain, Harry swooped down after it, spurred on by the cheers of his Housemates. He threw out a hand, and his fingers closed on the whirring shape, holding it high so that everyone could see he had caught it.  
  
He flew down to Hermione's side, slipping off the broom and presenting her with the Snitch, before taking her in his arms and kissing her thoroughly, amid raucous cheers. Blushing, she pushed away slightly, smiling up at her handsome boyfriend. Once again, Harry was struck by how lucky he was to have her, and how easily she could have preferred Ron over him. Hermione kissed his nose lightly, laying her head on his shoulder as they made their way back up to the school, and the celebrations in the common room.  
  
As they passed an open doorway, Harry pulled Hermione inside, capturing her lips with his own. As she sighed into him, her arms sliding around his neck, he pulled her closer to him, his hands wandering over her back. With a gentle nudge of his tongue, her lips parted, allowing him access to the sweetness within. His lips moved hungrily over hers, as she moaned into his mouth, caught up in the intensity of her feelings for him.  
  
Slowly they parted, their faces held close together as they looked into each other's eyes.  
  
'I love you, 'Mione,' Harry whispered, dropping light kisses on her brow.  
  
Hermione's arms tightened around him. With tears of joy sparkling in her cinnamon eyes, she breathed,  
  
'I know.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
She walked the halls of a darkened house, unafraid. She had never been inside the building, yet somehow knew her way around it as if she had lived there all her life. Making her way towards an open door, through which light streamed invitingly, she wondered if she was brave, or merely foolish.  
  
Stepping through, she was reminded of Christmases at home, when she would sit by the fireside, and listen to her grandfather tell her tales of magic, and love. The room was lit by a single fire, that burned brightly enough to reveal row upon row of books lining the walls. Instantly, she felt safe. For some reason, being surrounded by books always made her feel safe.  
  
She walked around the walls, a delighted smile curving her lips as she recognised the names of some of her favourite books. Slowly, she became aware of another presence in the room.  
  
'Do you like my library?'  
  
Turning, she saw a chair by the fireside, a man sitting in it, a book open on his lap.  
  
'Yes, I do,' she said, candidly. 'I've always loved books.'  
  
The man smiled nostalgically.  
  
'So did your mother.'  
  
She stared at him, wondering why she was so fearless, why he seemed so fatherly towards her all of a sudden.  
  
'I wanted to explain, my daughter. There are some things that have been left unclear.'  
  
He beckoned for her to sit beside him. She did so, pushing her fingers into the thick pile of the rug with delight.  
  
'You wonder why I am not so fearsome now as I have been before?' he asked, smiling down at her hesitant nod. 'This is because you are meeting with my former self, the man I was before I became Voldemort.'  
  
He shifted in the chair, and began to speak, his soft voice flowing over her like honey.  
  
'My name is Tom Riddle, and I once attended Hogwarts, like you. There was always something strange about me, even back then, which made even Dumbledore wary of me. I found life unbearable, people distrusted me because of my views, and shunned me. I was quite possibly the loneliest person in the world.  
  
'Then I met Aline Kettleburn. She was the first person to try and see past the mask I held in front of me, to the person I really was. I had never known love until Aline. My parents had hated me from the moment of my birth, and so I did away with them, for never caring enough to help me. Aline stood by me through many years of torment, despite my apparent hatred of her. She remained my constant companion, never quite allowing herself to believe that I was all bad. It was only when she became pregnant with you, and refused to allow me to hide you, that I was forced to take matters into my own hands.  
  
'But the man who killed your mother was Voldemort, the part of me who never loved, or was loved in return. I, Tom Riddle, was powerless to stop him as he struck down the only person I'd ever loved. But then, he held you in his arms, and I felt us both moved by the love we felt for you. You are our daughter. We may love you in different ways, have different expectations of you, but we will always stand by you.'  
  
The room around them began to shimmer. Sharp beams of angry red light tore between the cracks on the bookshelves. Tom Riddle looked at her in panic, determined to say what he had come to say.  
  
'He is trying to reach us before I can finish,' he said, falling to the floor to kneel before his daughter. 'Remember this, Hermione. Whatever happens, however he tries to lure you to his side, know that I am proud of you. Of who you are. You are the one good thing that has come out of my dark life, and I will fight him with every ounce of my being to keep you that way.'  
  
The ground shook, and the man before her convulsed, his back arching in pain. She clutched his shoulders as his hands grasped at her for support.  
  
'Please, Hermione,' he rasped, 'you must promise me this. Whatever the consequences, follow your heart. It will never lead you astray. That is what led to my downfall. Do not let it lead to yours. Promise me.'  
  
'I promise,' she whispered, watching in terror as his face changed, from the gentle quiet man who loved her so much, to the cold expressionless features of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  
  
He squeezed her arms painfully hard, his eyes burning with anger.  
  
'You promise what?'  
  
She pulled away from him, crawling backwards in fear. The bookcases were disappearing, the fire dying away. She was surrounded by red light, the only shadow being the man who towered above her.  
  
'Remember this, Hermione,' he said, in a manner that reminded her sickeningly of Tom, 'I am your father, and you WILL obey me!'  
  
She screamed, the sound tearing from her throat as she sat bolt upright in bed, to find Harry's arms about her, and her friends staring in fear.  
  
'Hush, now,' Harry was saying, 'it's all right, we're here. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise.'  
  
I promise. The memory of the loving father trapped within the crazed murderer rendered Hermione speechless, and she fell into Harry's embrace with a cry of such anguish, he was momentarily thrown off guard. He held her tightly, hoping to block out the pain with his love for her, knowing that nothing could protect her from the dreadful truth. 


	9. Stolen

Ginny stood in the dormitory, tearfully helping Hermione pack for the last time. It was the last day of term, and the seventh years had only twelve hours to say goodbye to the school that had been their home for seven years.  
  
'I'm really going to miss you, Herm,' she sniffed, folding clothes into the chest.  
  
Hermione looked over at her, tears filling her own eyes, and wrapped her arms about her young friend.  
  
'I'll miss you, too,' she whispered. 'But we'll still see each other. I'm not about to just abandon you because I've left school.'  
  
Ginny smiled brokenly into her shoulder.  
  
'It's not that I'm worried about,' she said, pulling back to look into Hermione's eyes. 'It's whatever's going to happen about your father. Be careful, Herm. Even if there is some loving old man buried inside him, you can't count on him being able to keep you safe. If you cross him, we could very well never see you again.'  
  
'I know.'  
  
The girls gazed into one another's eyes for a long moment, both knowing there were things that didn't need to be said. Hermione broke the silence, lifting her school robes from the trunk with a sigh.  
  
'I'm not going to need these any more,' she said, unfolding them. 'Would you like them?'  
  
Ginny grinned.  
  
'Are you kidding me? Of course, I would.'  
  
'You're sure? You're not just saying that?'  
  
Ginny took the robes from her with an exaggerated sigh.  
  
'Hermione, I'd rather wear elephant skin than have to put on Ron's cast-offs for another year. These look almost new, in comparison to what he hands down to me.'  
  
They giggled quietly, the seriousness of the moment passed.  
  
'Where will you go?' Ginny asked quietly.  
  
Hermione hesitated.  
  
'If I get through today, they'll move me to a safe house with the Fidelius Charm. Then all I have to do is wait until he is gone for good.'  
  
'What do you mean, if you get through today?'  
  
'They say today is his last chance to grab me, so he'll probably have a final attempt to grab me. Stay out of harm's way, Ginny. I won't see you hurt again.'  
  
As Hermione turned back to her packing, Ginny stared at her, unable to believe what she had just heard. Could this really be the last time she would ever see Hermione as her friend?  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
The station platform was packed with students, all waiting for the Hogwarts Express to take them home at the end of another year. Harry, Ron and Hermione stood off to one side, exchanging tearful goodbyes.  
  
'Take care of yourself, Herm,' Ron said gruffly, hugging his friend so tightly she thought he might strangle her. 'I'm here if you need me.'  
  
Hermione wiped her eyes, and smiled up at him. What had she ever done to deserve a friend like Ron?  
  
'Thanks, Ron. You take care, too.'  
  
He made a face at her, and turned to Parvati, who was almost in tears herself.  
  
Harry gazed down at Hermione, his green eyes misted over in pain.  
  
'Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?' he asked.  
  
Hermione nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat.  
  
'There's no point us both disappearing for the next few years. The Ministry are going to need you, Harry, I'm sure of it. I'll be all right.'  
  
He gathered her into his arms, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held her close. Hermione sobbed into his shoulder, unwilling to let him leave her, yet knowing it was for his own good. Harry gazed down at her, his eyes burning into her own. He gently took her face in both hands, leaning down until their lips almost touched.  
  
'I love you, 'Mione,' he whispered, covering her lips with his own. The kiss was so gentle, so tender, Hermione thought her heart would burst with sheer love of him. Pushing herself closer, she deepened the kiss, her hands snaking about his neck, to let her fingers tangle in the hair at his nape. Harry's hands dropped from her face, slowly running down her arms, and wrapping around her slender waist. Instead of pulling away when the kiss broke, Harry began to place tender kisses along her brow, and down into the curve of her neck. Hermione writhed against him, wanting him never to stop.  
  
Slowly he raised his face to hers. They were both crying, the pain of the farewell too much for either to bear. As the train pulled in with a shriek, Harry placed a final tender kiss on her love-swollen lips.  
  
'Harry, be careful,' she said, clinging to him.  
  
'I will.'  
  
He smiled sadly down at her before being borne away by the flood of people, his hands slipping from hers. She was left, standing alone on the platform, to gaze unhappily into his eyes through the glass and the steam.  
  
But as the train pulled away, Harry saw two dark figures come up behind Hermione as she watched him go. They knocked her unconscious, catching her slight form as it fell, and lifting her into their arms.  
  
'Stop the train!'  
  
Harry leapt up from his seat, searching for the emergency cord. Ron looked at him in confusion.  
  
'Harry, what's -'  
  
'Hermione! Look!'  
  
As Ron squinted out of the window, he, too, saw Hermione's unconscious body being carried out of the station to a waiting carriage. He and Harry watched in horror, as the carriage rumbled off, leaving no one in Hogsmeade any the wiser that the Dark Lord had regained his daughter. Harry thumped against the glass in despair, his cry of anguish almost more than his friends could bear.  
  
'Hermione!' 


	10. Alone

'Dad! Mum!'  
  
Ron and Ginny ran into their parents' house, dragging a distraught Harry behind them. Molly Weasley looked up at them from her washing up. She'd been attempting to do things the Muggle way on the insistence of her husband, and was finding it somewhat tedious. She took one look at Harry, and hurried over, sitting him on a chair, and sending Ginny for some brandy.  
  
'Whatever's the matter with him?'  
  
Ron was hovering over his friend, almost worried sick.  
  
'Hermione's been kidnapped!'  
  
Molly sat down abruptly, her face white as a sheet.  
  
'Who by?' she asked, her voice trembling.  
  
Harry gave a low moan and buried his head in his hands. Ginny tilted his head back and forced some brandy down his throat, watching as he spluttered against the strong alcohol. She turned to her mother.  
  
'By Voldemort, that's who!'  
  
Molly flinched, she'd never quite got over her children speaking the Dark Lord's name.  
  
'What's this about You-Know-Who?'  
  
They turned to see Arthur Weasley in the doorway, looking sternly at his children. Percy was hovering behind him, smirking as he realised Ron and Ginny could be in trouble.  
  
'He's kidnapped Hermione, Arthur!'  
  
Molly pulled her husband and son inside. Arthur sat down heavily.  
  
'Ron, explain. Now.'  
  
'Well, I suppose you know about Hermione being Vol - You-Know-Who's daughter?'  
  
There was a thud. Looking around, they saw that Molly had fainted. Ginny and Percy hurried over to sort her out, lifting their mother between them and carrying her into the living room.  
  
'No, Ron, I didn't,' Arthur said, his voice neutral, 'but do go on.'  
  
'He's been trying to get her to join him all year, and now he's kidnapped her! We saw his Death-Eaters take her away!'  
  
'So what's wrong with Harry?'  
  
Ron looked awkwardly at his father.  
  
'Well, Harry and Hermione . . . sort of . . . you know . . .'  
  
His father nodded, his face mystified.  
  
'I'm not going to pretend I understand a word of what you've just said to me, Ron, but I'm sure if you tell Dumbledore, he will. Come on. Help me with Harry.'  
  
Together they manhandled Harry into the living room, where they sat him in one of the armchairs. Molly was just coming around, lying flat out on the sofa. Arthur took some Floo Powder from the bag on the mantelpiece, and threw it into the fire.  
  
'Follow me, Ron. Hogwarts!'  
  
He disappeared, followed swiftly by Ron. Ginny and Percy exchanged a look.  
  
'Looks like we'll have to start dinner, Perce.'  
  
'The words oh, and crap spring to mind.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked up from his desk, as the two Weasleys stumbled out of his fireplace.  
  
'Arthur, Ron, what a pleasant surprise.'  
  
'Not for much longer, HeadMaster,' Ron promised darkly.  
  
Dumbledore gestured for them to take a seat.  
  
'What's wrong, Ron?'  
  
'He's got Hermione, sir,' Ron began, knowing he wouldn't have to explain who 'he' was. 'As the train pulled away, me and Harry saw two Death- Eaters knock her out and carry her into a carriage. Then they drove off, and we didn't know what to do. They wouldn't stop the train, or anything, sir!'  
  
'All right, Ron, calm down. Where's Harry? He hasn't decided to do something rash, has he? I know how he feels about Hermione.'  
  
Ron's face grew pale.  
  
'No, sir, nothing like that. It just, well, he's stopped speaking, and all the way back home he was just sitting there, like there was nothing holding him up anymore. I'm really worried, sir.'  
  
'I'm not surprised. Is he at your house, Arthur?'  
  
'Yes, Albus. And I intend to keep him there.'  
  
'Good. I have a friend who may be able to help him, but you're going to have to keep his presence a secret.'  
  
Arthur looked confused.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because he is a convicted criminal.'  
  
Ron's eyes lit up. He knew who Dumbledore was going to send to Harry.  
  
'His name is Sirius Black -'  
  
Arthur Weasley leapt out of his chair.  
  
'You're telling me that Black is counted among your friends, HeadMaster? He's a murderer!'  
  
'No, he isn't,' Ron butted in, regretting it as soon as the words left his mouth.  
  
His father gave him an icy glare.  
  
'Please, Arthur, sit down. Sirius was wrongfully arrested, and I can prove it, if you'll listen.'  
  
Tearing his eyes from his son's face, Arthur sat down. He gazed calmly at the HeadMaster.  
  
'Very well.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Brimstone. That's what she could smell, burning brimstone. She shifted slightly, groaning as the movement brought sharp icy pain to her head. A voice that she knew all too well cut through her discomfort.  
  
'So, you're finally awake.'  
  
Ignoring the pain, Hermione turned her head, opening her eyes to gaze around her in horror.  
  
She was lying in a soft canopied bed, the curtains pulled back so that Voldemort could watch her. A fire burned on the hearth, fuelled by nothing, apparently, but giving off the acrid brimstone smell. Books lined the walls, and in a chair by the fireplace sat her captor.  
  
'I trust you slept well?'  
  
Hermione forced herself not to panic. Dreams were one thing, but this time she was actually in the same room as him, and there was no one to distract him from her. She met his gaze with a cold stare of her own.  
  
'Funnily enough, no,' she replied, surprised at how calm her voice was.  
  
He smiled, a thin-lipped cruel smile that made her blood run cold.  
  
'Your fortitude is to be admired, young one. You will make a fine heir.'  
  
Hermione felt herself bristle at his assumption that she would give in now faced with him in person.  
  
'Whatever makes you think I'd want to be your heir?'  
  
His smile disappeared, replaced with a fearful expression of cold rage. He stood, towering over her, and advanced on the bed.  
  
'You will, my daughter, you will. Your fate was sealed from the moment you entered this house. You will not leave until you are one of us. I give you my word.'  
  
Hermione felt her heart freeze over. She knew he would not go back on his word, that she would be forced to become one of his Death-Eaters before he would allow her to walk free. Thoughts of Harry rose, unbidden, in her mind, making tears well up in her eyes. He would never understand, he'd think she'd gone over willingly.  
  
Voldemort snapped at her,  
  
'Stop crying, girl!'  
  
The sound of his cold voice just made her sob harder. All her friends, everyone she'd ever loved . . . she had to stay strong to protect them. The dark wizard raised his hand, his wand forgotten.  
  
'I said, stop it!'  
  
Shocked into silence, Hermione raised a trembling hand to the red mark on her cheek, her eyes seeking out his in the darkness. He glared at her, feeling that alien emotion wash over him again. Forcing himself to ignore it, he grasped her chin in his hand, and raised it painfully. Hermione winced and gazed into his eyes, her fear a dull glow in her own.  
  
'Until you learn the behaviour suitable for my daughter, you will remain in here. No light, no warmth, until you learn some respect!'  
  
Before his conscience could prod him into apologising for his actions, he stormed out.  
  
Hermione watched as the fire died away, leaving her in total darkness. Automatically she fumbled in her sleeve for her wand, lifting it out with relief.  
  
'Lumos,' she whispered.  
  
Nothing happened, not even a spark to tell her that the magic was still there. She tried again. Still nothing. Frightened sobs rose in her throat as she implored the light to come. She was trapped, alone, where no-one could find her, without even a light to dry her tears by.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Harry stared at the floor, his hands hanging limp, lifeless. He hadn't moved since being sat in the chair, despite Ginny's entreaties for him to snap out of it. He only vaguely heard her, his mind focused inward on what he could have done to help Hermione.  
  
Hermione. He loved her so much it hurt, and now he had lost her, to the one man who hated him more than anything in the world. He couldn't bear to think what she could be going through, how frightened she must be.  
  
If only he'd refused to leave her, as he had been tempted to do. If only he'd stayed just a few moments longer on the platform, he might have seen them approaching and been able to do something. Anything.  
  
He kept seeing, in his mind's eye, her trusting face as she looked on him with sad cinnamon eyes. He saw her standing forlornly on the platform, the figures rising from the mist behind her to strike her down and carry her off. He felt again the helplessness seep through him, the despair that he had lost the one person he truly loved with all his heart.  
  
He heard vaguely people returning via Floo, and Molly Weasley protesting about something. He was aware of a hostile silence, broken by Arthur Weasley saying,  
  
'Shush, Molly, I'll explain in a minute.'  
  
Suddenly hands gripped his shoulders, forcing him to look up into a pair of familiar dark eyes.  
  
'Sirius . . .'  
  
Just the sight of his trusted friend made the pent up emotions boil over, and Harry fell forward into his godfather's embrace with an anguished sob, clutching at arms that held him tight against the flood of pain. 


	11. Torture

WARNING : THIS CHAPTER IS THE REASON THE STORY HAS AN R RATING. IT CONTAINS RAPE, MURDER AND TORTURE. IF YOU HAVE STRONG VIEWS AGAINST SUCH THEMES, DON'T READ THIS CHAPTER. I DO NOT CONDONE SUCH VIOLENCE AT ALL.  
  
  
  
The door opened a little way, light spilling onto the bed, illuminating the sleeping girl. She sighed softly in her sleep, turning away from the light. He walked silently across the floor, to stand beside her, a mixture of hate and love in his face.  
  
She was his daughter. Everything a Gryffindor should be, brave, outspoken, loyal. Not at all as he had expected her to be. And yet, he felt pride stirring in his dark heart that she had not given in so easily. She was fighting him with every ounce of her being, denying his right to the power she held.  
  
She was his daughter. He hated her for being his weakness. He could no longer commit a terrible act without first thinking of how much more she would hate him for what he was about to do. He had become more merciful, knowing that cruelty to others hurt her more than being attacked herself.  
  
She was his daughter, and he would never escape the fact that she held his heart in the palm of her hand. He wanted her love more than anything, but knew to achieve it, he would have to turn his back on all his grand plans. He was not prepared to do that.  
  
A slow evil smile crept across his face. He would break her. Force her to watch as he defiled, mutilated and murdered, knowing there was nothing she could do to help his victims. He may even force her to commit some terrible crime.  
  
She was his daughter. And she WOULD obey him.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione jerked awake, feeling hands on her. Dark shapes dragged her bodily from the room, down the stairs to a central courtyard. He was there, surrounded by hooded shapes. With a wave of his hand, Hermione found herself being chained to the wall, her face held between cold hands as they turned her towards the 'entertainment'.  
  
Voldemort nodded gracefully to his followers, and they opened the gates, watching impassively as a group of Muggles were herded in, crying in terror. Hermione's eyes widened in horror. She knew she didn't want to know what was about to be done.  
  
The women were dragged away from the men, chained to the wall opposite her, their shrieks filling the courtyard. Hooded figures poured from every doorway, until the huddled men were surrounded by darkness. Despite her fear for them, Hermione felt pride in those she had been brought up amongst that they didn't cry out or try to beg for mercy. They seemed to know they could expect no quarter.  
  
Wands were raised in unison, words spoken, curses hit their mark. Hermione cried out as the men fell, writhing in the agony she so clearly remembered. Except she knew their pain was much worse. Each curse was reinforced by four others who spoke the words together, the pain that gripped them four times as strong.  
  
Then the beatings began. The Death-Eaters crowded around the men, kicking and punching with relish. The screams intensified, but slowly began to diminish, replaced with the death rattle that rose in their throats as they began to drown in their own blood. The Death-Eaters fell back, and Hermione resisted the urge to throw up. What was left of the brave Muggles were unidentifiable husks, covered in blood, mucus and faeces, twisted into shapes from the darkest depths of her imagination. Her cries mingled with that of the women as she comprehended the brutal murder of nine innocent Muggles.  
  
'Stop,' she sobbed, unable to bear the thought that it was her father, her own flesh and blood, who had sanctioned this. 'Please, stop.'  
  
Voldemort looked at her pityingly.  
  
'Oh, but my dear,' he sneered, wiping her tear-streaked face, 'we are just getting started.'  
  
He gestured towards the women, lined up against the wall. Hermione stared at him, horrified.  
  
'No, please, don't,' she whispered, her cinnamon eyes wide with terror for the innocent women. 'Please . . .'  
  
She shut her eyes as the first of the women was brought forward, a tiny brunette with wide staring eyes. She heard Voldemort mutter a charm, and her eyes snapped open of their own accord, her eyeballs held still, staring at the scene before her.  
  
The tiny woman was held tightly between two Death-Eaters, a third preparing to strip her. He grasped the front of her dress and pulled, the thin fabric ripping easily beneath his hands. She pressed her lips together, determined not to scream. The Death-Eater's eyes glittered dangerously in the torchlight, as he roughly removed her underwear, leaving red marks and bruises along her fair skin. The woman was forced to the ground, her legs held painfully wide.  
  
His laughter echoed about the walls as he entered her, slamming in and out of her small opening with such force, Hermione felt her body tense in sympathy. Another man came forward as the woman was lifted, still impaled, into the air. He held the blade of a dagger over the flame from a torch, and was looking at her, calculating. With a swift, terrifying movement, he removed the white hot metal from the flame, and pressed it against the woman's breast.  
  
Hermione could see blood trickling from the woman's mouth, where she'd bitten through her lip. She still would not give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream. When they had had their pleasure, they withdrew, leaving her, broken, bruised and bleeding on the cobbles.  
  
Hermione sobbed. She couldn't bear it, and began to thrash against her bindings, trying to at least turn her head if she couldn't close her eyes. The rapes became worse, more brutal and savage, until the Death-Eaters had all had their pleasure. Voldemort smiled over his exhausted followers.  
  
'I believe she has seen enough for one night,' he said, gesturing to where Hermione hung, limp, between the two men. 'Go with speed, it is nearly morning.'  
  
Hermione was carried back up to her room, and flung on the bed. She rolled over, without the strength to cry, and stared blankly into the darkness, terrified beyond belief.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
The next time they came for her, she was ready. They weren't going to put her through all that again. She'd spent hours blaming herself, knowing there was nothing she could have done to save the innocents he had killed that night. Now, determined to remain where she was, she waited in the darkness for them.  
  
As the door opened, four figures were silhouetted against the candlelight. Hermione rose, her blood boiling with anger, and began to throw books at them. Confused, unable to see her in the semi-darkness, the Death-Eaters cursed, and ducked the flying tomes. She hurled the heavy volumes at them, desperation giving her strength.  
  
Eventually they backed out, shutting and locking the door behind them. Hermione slumped by the bed, exhausted. Slowly a triumphant smile curved her pale lips. She'd done it. 


	12. Escape

Dumbledore looked around at his assembled group. These were to be the ones who would retrieve Hermione Granger from her father before he could force her to follow him. Severus Snape, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Rhys Mulqueen, and oddly enough, Arthur Weasley. He was determined to be a part of the rescue. Harry and Ron had been forcibly told they were not going, not having the experience needed to confront Death-Eaters and get out of it alive.  
  
'Well, then,' he began, drawing their attention to him. 'I have received news of where young Hermione is being held, and it would appear we have an even greater task on our hands than we first thought. She is shut away in Voldemort's tower, an imposing structure some forty miles from here. And he is with her.'  
  
The silence was thick with questions.  
  
'Severus, you have been there before, what can you tell us of the fortifications?'  
  
Snape nodded coldly at the HeadMaster, and addressed the group.  
  
'The defences around the tower are much like those around Hogwarts. You cannot Apparate into the grounds, and unlike Hogwarts, no magic can be used inside the walls. Most of the atrocities take place in the courtyard, where magic is still available to them. Not even the Dark Lord himself can over-rule his own wards.'  
  
'So, once we're inside, we're on our own?' Sirius asked, his dark eyes intent.  
  
'Yes, the problem will be getting inside un-noticed. The guards are all chosen for their sharp eyes, and swift reactions. And the magical wards are very powerful.'  
  
'Which is why,' Dumbledore added, 'I will be going with you.'  
  
There was a loud murmur around the table.  
  
'HeadMaster, do you think that is entirely wise?' Arthur asked, his eyes reflecting concern for the old wizard.  
  
'Yes, Arthur, I do. I am the only one here who has the knowledge to break the wards Severus has described to me, and that is why you will need me.'  
  
'My guess is that he will have housed Miss Granger in his wife's room,' Snape continued. 'Once we have her, we will have to get out as fast as we can. I have no idea whether he has bound his soul to hers yet, or if he is just torturing her.'  
  
At the thought of Voldemort torturing Hermione, a wince was shared by all present. They were all very fond of her, even Snape, and they realised they had to get to her sharpish.  
  
'We will set out tonight,' Dumbledore said, dismissing them. 'Try to get some sleep. I have a feeling we will all need it.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione sat alone in the darkness, cinnamon eyes wild and staring. She ran a hand through her unruly chestnut locks, wincing as her fingers snagged on tangles that were days old. She was so tired. She hadn't slept for hours, afraid they would come for her while she was sleeping. Not even Voldemort could remove her from her self-imposed isolation.  
  
He had come to the door twice, both times retreating under a hail of flying books, discovering that, among other things, his daughter had very good aim. Now he resorted to speaking to her through the wood, keeping a barrier between himself and his irate daughter. He'd had no idea the scene they'd played out would effect her so.  
  
There was a scuttling sound by the door, and Hermione sat straighter, peering into the darkness as her hands closed on yet another tome. She knew the Dark Lord had at least one person who could get to her in there, one who was ultimately the cause of all their troubles. She strained her ears, waiting for what she knew would come.  
  
There was a 'whoomph' close behind her, and she spun, flailing the book like a club. The old leather hit Peter Pettigrew hard on the side of his head, sending him flying into a bookcase. Unlike Hermione, who had been in the room for days, and knew her way around by touch alone, he was totally blind. He tumbled to the floor, and lay there, panting.  
  
'Hermione?'  
  
She knew she shouldn't answer, it would give him a good idea of where she was.  
  
'What do you want, Wormtail?'  
  
Instantly, she heard him move towards her voice, and side-stepped his outstretched hands more from luck than anything. He stumbled forward, cracking his shins against the bed. Hermione whirled at his curse, so close behind her, and tightened her grip on the book. The small man felt the rush of air, and edged towards her.  
  
'You know, you could have stopped us last night, Hermione.'  
  
She gave no answer, determined not to give him any clues as to her whereabouts.  
  
'All you needed to do was give yourself to the Master.'  
  
Wormtail smiled as his sharp ears heard the stifled sob that caught in Hermione's throat. He sidled across the room, his feet moving silently over the wreckage.  
  
'It is because of you that all those innocents were killed,' he whispered viciously. 'All it would have taken was four little words. 'I will follow you.' That isn't so hard to say, now, is it, Hermione?'  
  
Hermione was unable to prevent the wail that rose up in her throat. As soon as the noise filled the room, Wormtail was on her, his arms wrapping about her waist. He lifted her wriggling form into the air, calling for his companions to open the door. They did so, and were greeted with the sight of Hermione Granger, kicking seven kinds of hell out of Wormtail. Unable to hide their grins, they pulled the struggling girl off him as their Master slipped into view.  
  
'Well, well, my daughter. So, you've finally decided to come out.'  
  
Hermione lifted a tear-stained face to glare at the Dark Lord.  
  
'I didn't exactly have much choice.'  
  
She stared pointedly at Wormtail, rubbing her waist where his silver arm had bruised the delicate skin there. Voldemort spared a glance at the man, returning his red eyes to Hermione. She couldn't stop her lower lip from trembling, unable to deny what Wormtail had told her in the darkness of the room.  
  
'What is it that pains you, my daughter?' he asked, insincerely.  
  
'Don't call me that,' Hermione growled, grinding her teeth in anger.  
  
Voldemort leant closer, his face just inches from hers. He stroked a lock of her chestnut hair, rubbing it between skeletal fingers.  
  
'I will call you whatever I want, daughter,' he hissed. 'You cannot deny what your precious Muggles would call simple biology.'  
  
'I am not your daughter, you murderous bastard!'  
  
'Perhaps you would like to rephrase that,' he said, his voice so cold it sent a shiver through Hermione's body.  
  
She clenched her fists and was surprised to discover that she still held her makeshift weapon.  
  
Before anyone could react, she had raised it against Voldemort, sending him crashing to the ground, a pale hand clutched to his bleeding cheek. As the Death-Eaters stared in astonishment, Hermione wrenched herself from their grip and ran, headlong, down the passageway, desperately making a bid for freedom.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Arthur Weasley crept through the darkness, wondering for the hundredth time why he had volunteered for this. He knew very little about such things and was only just able to defend himself, let alone someone else. And as for hand to hand combat, he didn't have a rat's chance at surviving such an adventure. He glanced over at his fellow shadows.  
  
Albus Dumbledore. The old fool was so sure of himself, Arthur hoped to the gods that his confidence was well placed. He couldn't imagine a world without Dumbledore.  
  
Severus Snape. The man had proved himself trustworthy so many times, Arthur hadn't thought twice about his inclusion. Now, he wasn't so sure. He could easily be leading them into a trap. Arthur shook his head, Severus would never do such a thing.  
  
Remus Lupin, and Rhys Mulqueen. Both trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and both determined to strike a blow for the good this night. A werewolf, and a former Auror. Well, you never knew what was going to happen.  
  
Finally, Sirius Black. Arthur still had his reservations about Black, unsure of him. Dumbledore had vouched for him, and the way Harry had responded to his gentle ministrations had convinced him that there was more to Black than met the eye. As to what that was, he shuddered to think.  
  
Suddenly there was a cacophony of noise from within the tower walls. The shadows halted abruptly, six pairs of eyes searching the darkness for any clue as to what had happened. Arthur's first thought was that the Aurors had attacked, but there were no flashes in the dark to indicate a magical duel.  
  
Then they heard clearly the voice of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named slicing through the still night air.  
  
'Find her! Or you may soon be joining your comrades! Move!'  
  
There was a low chuckle to Arthur's right.  
  
'It would appear,' Dumbledore murmured, tucking his beard into his belt, 'that young Hermione has escaped.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Whimpering in terror, Hermione careered through a doorway, slamming the ancient wood behind her. She had expected at any minute to see curses flying towards her, to feel the Unforgivables hit her back, and consume her will.  
  
Leaning against the door, she listened for any sounds of pursuit, forcing herself to calm down. She didn't know why, but somehow she had kept a firm grip on her book. Glancing down at it, she read the gold lettering in the moonlight.  
  
The Jerusalem Bible.  
  
'How appropriate,' she muttered, placing it reverentially on the table to her left.  
  
Looking around, she made straight for the window, pulling at the locks that held it shut. There was a tree close by the casement, and she felt sure she could swing down to the ground from its branches. A shout from high above her echoed through the tower.  
  
'Find her!'  
  
Hermione ran to the desk, rummaging in the drawers until she found what she was looking for. Jamming the penknife under the lock, she forced it open, pushing the window as far as it would go. She clambered up onto the windowsill and made a grab for the closest branch. Swinging herself out into the tree, she prayed that the branch wouldn't give way.  
  
She was about to begin her descent, when the sound of running feet caused her to freeze, hardly daring to breathe. Four hooded shapes stumbled along the pathway, bickering amongst themselves.  
  
'It was you who let her get away!'  
  
'You were holding her!'  
  
Hermione watched them hurry by, hoping against hope that they wouldn't glance up into the tree. With a terrifying jolt, she realised she had left the window open. They wouldn't even need to look into the branches to guess which way she had come. To her never ending relief, they hurried away, still arguing, without noticing her presence.  
  
Slipping from the branches of the tree, she stole from shadow to shadow, keeping close to the garden walls. Her questing hand found what she was searching for under the overgrown ivy. A door.  
  
With a low sigh, she turned the handle, only to discover the door was locked. A sob rose in her throat, which she hurriedly squashed. It wouldn't do to be discovered now, not when she was so close to freedom. Swiftly, she knelt, dragging a hairpin from the depths of her mane of matted hair, and began to prod the lock, freezing in terror as another search party ran past. After what felt like hours of probing, still the lock remained . . . locked.  
  
Hermione wrenched her wand from her sleeve and looked sceptically at it. It hadn't worked since she'd got here, why should it decide to be in full working order now? With a shrug, she bent close to the lock, touching her wand to its rusty metal.  
  
'Alohomora,' she whispered, in a voice almost dull with lack of hope.  
  
The lock clicked, and the door moved outwards. Hermione suppressed a cry of joy, slipping out through the door and into the woods beyond.  
  
As she ran through the trees, swerving in between the thick trunks, she became aware of the noises coming from the tower. It would appear that they had found her open window, and it would only be a matter of time before the unlocked door was discovered, too. Fear spurred her on, faster, until she slammed into someone, who grasped her arms in an attempt to stay upright. Convinced she had been captured again, Hermione began to thump the man's chest, sobbing in terror. A familiar voice cried out,  
  
'Great stars, Hermione, what do you think I'm trying to do?'  
  
Her movements slowed, stopped, as she peered up into a very welcome face.  
  
'Mr Weasley?' 


	13. Safe

'Mr Weasley?'  
  
Relieved beyond measure, Hermione began to cry, stifling her sobs in Arthur's chest. He beckoned to his companions, who gathered around, immensely relieved themselves that they would not have to enter Voldemort's tower. Dumbledore rallied them, speaking in hushed tones.  
  
'We must return to the edge of the woods before we can Apparate away. We'll be heading for Arthur's house, and then on to Hogwarts via the Floo network. '  
  
He melted into the darkness, closely followed by the others. Hermione found herself trailing behind them, so exhausted from her days of solitude she could hardly keep up. Her feet seemed heavy, as if they were encased in lead, and she was so tired.  
  
Unable to concentrate on her movements and following the hurrying men, she tripped, sprawling in the undergrowth. As she tried to raise herself up, her arms gave way, dropping her back onto the bracken. Looking up, she saw Arthur Weasley disappearing into the darkness ahead of her. She tried to call to him, her voice catching in her throat.  
  
With no strength left, even to call out to her rescuers as they ran further away from her, Hermione felt the despair begin to overwhelm her. Silent tears trickled down her pale face, and she lay, perfectly still, awaiting the arrival of the Death-Eaters. A gentle hand wiped the water from her cheeks, pulling her upright.  
  
'Come along, Miss Granger,' Snape said, his usually sarcastic voice uncharacteristically gentle. 'We didn't go to all this trouble just to leave you behind, you know.'  
  
He swept her up into his arms, and hurried along the trail, catching up with the others at the borders of the woods. With a quick nod, he Apparated away, appearing in the Weasley's living room with a quiet 'pop'. Molly Weasley stood ready by the fireplace.  
  
Harry leapt out of his seat, his eyes going straight to Hermione.  
  
'What -?'  
  
Molly dug some Floo Powder out of a bag and threw it into the fire. Snape looked at Harry as he stepped into the flames.  
  
'Not now, Mr Potter. Hogwarts!'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione woke slowly, jolting upright in the bed before realising where she was. Minerva McGonagall wrapped her arms around the startled girl, comforting her as the terror of her ordeal hit her.  
  
'It's all right, Hermione. You're safe, now. We won't let him get to you,' she assured her former student. 'And there are some very anxious people waiting to see you.'  
  
She washed and dressed, revelling in the feel of clean clothes, and smooth hair. Gazing into the mirror she hardly recognised herself. Her face was pale, drawn, with huge dark circles under her eyes. Eyes that had seen enough in the last few days to last her a lifetime. Tears formed again as she remembered the innocents who had died in agony because she would not acquiesce to Voldemort's wish that she join him.  
  
A large ginger cat rubbed itself against her legs, purring as she bent down to stroke him with a smile.  
  
'Crookshanks, what would I do without you?'  
  
The tom meowed and licked her face, nuzzling into her neck as she stood up, cat held gently in her arms. Setting him down on the bed, Hermione drew in a deep breath, and made her way along the halls to Dumbledore's office, smiling at the gargoyle on duty.  
  
'May I ask how the young miss is feeling today?' it rasped, an anxious smile on its stony face.  
  
'I'm very well, thank you. Relieved to be home.'  
  
'Glad to hear it. I don't suppose you know the password?'  
  
'How about 'Voldemort is an evil bastard who deserves to die a slow and painful death'?'  
  
The gargoyle chuckled as it stepped aside.  
  
'Fair enough, miss.'  
  
As Hermione entered the crowded office, her eyes flew to the man standing beside the window, the sunlight shining off his black hair.  
  
'Harry!'  
  
He gathered her into his arms, kissing her hair, her cheeks, her lips, with a passion that transcended mere relief. Hermione sighed happily, holding him tighter. She had thought she would never see him again.  
  
She felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned to see Ron grinning at her like a maniac. He, too, wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her as tightly as he dared, to show her how happy he was that she was safe.  
  
There was a polite cough behind them, and they all turned to see Dumbledore smiling down at them from behind his desk.  
  
'Welcome home, Hermione. If you would take a seat? I'm sure you have many questions you'd like answering. But first, I think we would like to know what happened.'  
  
Sitting between Harry and Ron on the tiny two-seater sofa, Hermione looked around at the people gathered in the office. She began, her speech stilted at first, growing more confident as she continued. It was only when she reached the murders that she faltered. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, but she continued bravely on, finishing her story to the shocked gathering of wizards.  
  
'I didn't mean to worry so many people,' she mumbled, feeling Harry's arm slip around her shoulders.  
  
'Nonsense, Hermione,' Dumbledore said. 'You mean far more to us than you will ever know. Is there anything you would like to ask before we get down to business?'  
  
Hermione looked up at her aged Headmaster, knowing she had to ask just one question.  
  
'Just one question, Professor. Why didn't my wand work in the tower?'  
  
'I believe I can answer that, Miss Granger,' Snape said, leaning forwards. 'Voldemort has put wards on his tower that prevent the use of magic within its walls as a way of defending himself. However, the rule also applies to him and his Death-Eaters, which is why you weren't blasted to oblivion each time you defied him. Damn stupid ward to use, if you ask me, but then, who knows what goes on in his twisted mind?'  
  
Dumbledore gave him a warning look, turning to Hermione with a smile.  
  
'I trust your question has been answered fully, Hermione? Good.'  
  
He rapped on the desk, as all eyes turned on him.  
  
'Our immediate concern is the removal of Hermione to a safe house, preferably under the Fidelius Charm, but we must make do with the resources we have available to us. The Ministry are not to know of Hermione's heritage, Arthur, so I'd appreciate it if you kept our nightly excursion to yourself.'  
  
Arthur nodded, still a little dazed by the experience he had just been through. He'd never thought that the rescue would work, let alone be so easy. All right, so Hermione had done most of the work, but he had placed himself in a near-death situation and had come out of it. Despite himself, he was impressed.  
  
Dumbledore continued,  
  
'Until such time as Hermione can be housed safely away from the prying eyes of Voldemort's spies, she will remain here at Hogwarts with myself and the other Professors. That is, unless you would prefer not to, Hermione?'  
  
She smiled hesitantly up at him.  
  
'Of course I'll stay, Headmaster,' she said, her fingers entwined with Harry's. 'It's not like I have anywhere else to go anymore, is it?'  
  
Harry looked concerned, leaning in to whisper in her ear,  
  
'Don't say that, 'Mione. You've always got me.'  
  
Her features softened as she turned to look at him. A disgusted sound from the opposite side of the room announced Snape's intention to leave, which he did. Sirius gazed thoughtfully after him, his dark eyes going from the love-struck couple to the Potions Master's empty chair. He smiled sadly, his eye catching that of Dumbledore, whose own face reflected the soft emotion on Black's. 


	14. Sorrow

Harry gazed down lovingly at Hermione's sleeping form, curled into his arm. His grip on her tightened as he remembered how he had nearly lost her. She had clung to him in tears, almost hysterical with fear that somehow Voldemort would return for her and this time she would be unable to resist him.  
  
The deaths of the innocents preyed on her mind, convincing her that she could have saved them. All would have taken was four little words, she sobbed, her face pressed into his shoulder. Just one sentence, and they would have lived, and Harry would have been rid of her to find another girl who deserved him. He had shaken her roughly, angry that she thought he would be so inconstant, frightened that she felt so unworthy.  
  
A noise from the room beyond reminded him of Sirius' presence, guarding the fragile girl. Harry found it hard to believe that only a few days ago he had graduated from Hogwarts, and now he was protecting quite possibly the most important person in the wizarding world. His Hermione, the daughter of Voldemort, the best mind to graduate from Hogwarts in fifty years. In disgust, he remembered that the last brilliant mind had been Tom Riddle, the ultimate cause of Hermione's grief.  
  
He grazed her lips with his own, feeling her shift beside him. She made a girlish sound in her throat, nestling closer to him. Harry smiled softly. His Hermione need never be afraid again.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione woke with a start, suddenly cold beyond compare. She reached for Harry to find he wasn't there; her hand encountered cold cloth. Forcing herself to calm down, she realised he must have got up to talk to Sirius, or to get a drink. Thus explained, she turned over, a scream rising in her throat.  
  
It never made a sound. Wormtail touched his wand to her lips, whispering a silencing curse, as she backed up on the bed. Hermione leapt from the covers, scrambling for the door, only to be caught up about her waist and sat back on the bed. It was then that she realised her attacker was not alone.  
  
'Good evening, my lady. My son has told me so much about you.'  
  
Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the shadows, a thin smile on his pale face. Hermione wished fervently she could remember where she'd put her wand, knowing that it would be useless without a voice to speak the spells.  
  
'Rat got your tongue?'  
  
He laughed quietly, a rich deep sound at odds with his smarmy voice.  
  
'My Master has asked me to retrieve you from the arms of his enemies, my lady,' he continued, watching her face carefully. 'By any means necessary, he said.'  
  
He glanced meaningfully at the half-open door, through which light spilled from the fire in the adjoining room. Hermione stared at him, too afraid even to move. She could hear Harry's voice, getting closer to the door; could see his shadow as it played in the firelight.  
  
She tried to signal him, discovering to her horror that she had been bound in a charm, leaving her powerless to warn her friend of the danger he was in. She knew for a fact that he would not reach his wand in time, it was on the table beside her.  
  
Malfoy nodded to Wormtail, who slipped behind the door, a cruel grin on his thin face. They waited in silence, as Sirius and Harry approached the door.  
  
  
  
They stepped into the room, Harry freezing as he saw Hermione, stiffly upright, her eyes wide with terror. Wormtail dived out from behind the door, tackling Sirius and bearing him to the ground. A rough fight then ensued, Sirius taken completely by surprise.  
  
Harry spun around to help his friend, to see the door slam shut. Turning back, he looked into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. Malfoy smiled, a cruel smile that told Harry that his time had come. As the wand rose to point at the defenceless boy, he turned to look at Hermione. She was crying, silent tears that spoke volumes to him.  
  
Harry swallowed, gazing into her eyes with adoration.  
  
'I love you, 'Mione.'  
  
He leapt for his wand just as the curse struck home. Harry screamed just once, and fell, lifeless, to the floor. Hermione screamed too, a soundless scream that echoed in her ears. Malfoy turned to her, satisfaction written on his face as he approached the helpless girl.  
  
From the other room, sounds of fighting were diminishing as one or the other gained the upper hand. A body slammed into the wooden door, as a familiar voice called,  
  
'Hermione? Harry? Are you all right?'  
  
Hermione felt despair wash over her as McGonagall approached the door. Malfoy turned to it, waiting for her. In desperation, Hermione threw as much of her body weight as she still had control of onto her side. Her rigid body swayed for a moment, before toppling noisily onto the wooden floor. Malfoy made the mistake of turning to look at her, as McGonagall and Dumbledore burst in, wands at the ready.  
  
The Death-Eater was bound and silenced, as his own charm and curse were removed from Hermione. She stumbled over to Harry's body, ignoring the pain that coursed through her body. Kneeling beside him, her first love, she wept, tears that proclaimed her sorrows to the world.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
She sat beside his body, still unable to believe it had happened. A few short hours ago, she had been held in his arms, his smile lighting her day. And now . . . she would never see that smile again. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. The first time she had ever dared to love, and he lay dead before her. They had only had a few months together, and yet she vowed that they were the best of her life.  
  
When she closed her eyes, she could see his nervous face on their first day at Hogwarts, could remember how much she had disliked him, and Ron, for being friends, and not accepting her. She saw again, in her mind's eye, her birthday, how worried he'd been that she might reject him. Then to return to Hogwarts, to refuse to let them give up on her, to hold her in his arms with such love. She replayed every minute of that fateful day when he'd first kissed her. She'd never felt so fulfilled in all her life as when he'd finally let her know how he felt.  
  
Ron had not been allowed to come and comfort her, his own safety having been called into question. He had been hidden by the Aurors, unable even to send a message to his friend. Ginny was also hidden, her mother distraught at the loss of her two youngest children following the death of The Boy Who Lived.  
  
Sorrow filled her heart as she realised that she had loved him, and had never had the chance to tell him. She gave in to the tears, as sobs wracked her body, depriving her of her strength and resolve. She truly had loved and lost.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
A roar echoed through the tower, a terrifying mixture of anger and glee. Death-Eaters scurried from his path, as Voldemort walked the halls, reveling in the defeat of his long standing enemy. Harry Potter was dead.  
  
He laughed harshly, stopping abruptly as he remembered the reason for his anger. Hermione was still out of his reach, protected by that old fool Dumbledore and his loyal minions. She had seen Malfoy kill Potter, yet another reason for her to reject her own father and to cast him from her life.  
  
Then a tight smile curved his thin lips. He still had one contact within Dumbledore's inner circle. Perhaps now would be the time for a Potions Master to earn his status as Malfoy's replacement. 


	15. Hidden

The idea of Hermione's hidden location came to me while I was reading Serpentina's fic, From This Day On (It's great, give it a go!), and she graciously has allowed me to steal - to adapt her idea for this story. Thanks gel, you're fab!  
  
*~*~*  
  
Sirius poked the fire half-heartedly, and sat back, casting worried glances towards the open door. In the room beyond, Hermione had cried herself into a fitful sleep, and each tormented sound she made was agony on his ears. For himself, he hadn't even realised Harry was gone until he'd made it into the room. He'd been too concerned with removing Wormtail from the vicinity.  
  
'It's a terrible blow for her,' he said to his companion, who nodded absently.  
  
Snape was gazing out into the shadows of the night, intent on anything that might pose a threat to Hermione.  
  
He was examining his attitude towards her. For seven years she had been the perfect student (Sorted into the wrong House in his opinion), and the best mind Snape had ever had the privilege to teach. Then it had all changed when she found out about her heritage. He had become no longer just a professor, but a protector as well, an occupation he had so far managed to hide from Voldemort during his regular summoning.  
  
Then the Dark Lord had stolen her. Snape's fists clenched unconsciously. He had been the first to suggest a rescue party, unable to bear the thought of what Voldemort could be doing to Hermione. The haunted look on her face when she had careered into Weasley, that had remained in her eyes to remind them of the horrors she had witnessed at the hands of her own father, tortured him night and day.  
  
He could still see her lying in the undergrowth, her hope gone, as she waited for death to claim her. He heard again her quiet sobs, his less than adequate reassurance. The feel of her small body curled into his arms, her head resting trustingly against his shoulder.  
  
Snape shook his head slightly, his dark eyes casting about the darkness. When had she become more than a student to him? He couldn't remember. She just was, a beautiful, intelligent young woman, who had ensnared his soul. She had the power to make him or break him. And she was mourning for Potter. His fists clenched again. He had come second to a Potter again.  
  
An itch began in his left arm. He absently scratched at it, paying no mind to the warning bells in the back of his mind. His thoughts were on Hermione. Then searing pain shot through his arm, causing him to grunt in agony.  
  
Sirius looked up in alarm, seeing Snape clutching his Death-Mark, his thin lips clenched tightly together.  
  
'I'd better get you to Dumbledore,' he said, rising from the hearth.  
  
Snape shook his head violently.  
  
'I am quite able to find my own way, Black,' he snapped, staggering to the door. 'Miss Granger needs your protection more than I do.'  
  
He threw open the door and hurried down the hallway towards the Headmaster's office.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione wandered through the hallways, vaguely aware of Sirius at her shoulder. She seemed to be living in a dream, a nightmare from which she could not wake. Her father was Voldemort, Muggles killed for her disobedience, her boyfriend murdered . . . it was too much for her to cope with.  
  
Sirius glanced at her, worried. Hermione hadn't spoken a word since Harry's death, her sleep was disturbed. She seemed cut off, somehow, from the world she inhabited. When he spoke to her, her answers were vague, her smile absent. Cinnamon eyes, that had seen too much for her tender years, were haunted by the memory of the nights she spent in the Tower.  
  
They reached the gargoyle, who took one look at Hermione's face and stepped aside without a word. It stopped Sirius as he slipped past.  
  
'How is the young miss, sir?'  
  
The man glanced at the waiting girl.  
  
'As well as can be expected. She hasn't spoken for three days.'  
  
The stony face creased in concern.  
  
'That can't be good,' it said. 'All us gargoyles and house-elves are worried, sir. Miss Hermione's always been a friend to us, regardless of her parentage.'  
  
Sirius gave the gargoyle a reassuring smile.  
  
'Don't worry. Dumbledore'll set her straight.'  
  
They ascended the stairs, Sirius ushering Hermione through the rich oak door into Dumbledore's office. The old wizard broke off his conversation and gave her a smile. Snape quickly stood, offering Hermione his chair. She accepted it, her face composed. As the Headmaster settled into his armchair to speak with her, Snape moved over to where Sirius stood by the door.  
  
'How is she?'  
  
'Not good. You?'  
  
'You do not want to know.'  
  
They left quickly, leaving Hermione alone with Dumbledore.  
  
'Now, Hermione, how are you?'  
  
The simple question was so warmly put, and so heart-felt, that Hermione felt the tears welling up again. Before she could stop herself, she had burst into tears. Dumbledore came to her side, wrapping his arms about her shaking shoulders as she sobbed into his robes. Slowly she calmed, pushing away with an apologetic smile. Fawkes cooed softly from his perch, flying over to sit on the arm of her chair. He began to cry, his tears falling onto Hermione's breast. Dumbledore smiled fondly at his phoenix.  
  
'I'm sorry, Fawkes, I don't think this is the type of hurt you can heal.'  
  
Hermione gave the bird a grateful look, reaching out to stroke his downy feathers. Fawkes pushed his head against her fingers, prompting a hesitant delighted smile to form on her lips. The Headmaster glanced between them.  
  
'I could be wrong, of course,' he muttered in an amused tone, returning to his seat.  
  
He watched them silently for a few moments, biting down a grin as Hermione suddenly seemed to realise where she was. She turned back to him, curiosity in her eyes.  
  
'You wanted to see me, Headmaster?'  
  
'Yes, Hermione.'  
  
The old wizard's voice was grave.  
  
'I'm afraid we have received word that you are no longer safe here with us. Professor Snape was called to Voldemort's side last night, and he has orders to return you to your father by any means necessary.'  
  
Hermione gasped, fear filling her being as she realised there was nowhere else for her to go. Fawkes rubbed his head reassuringly on her arm, distracting her from any morbid thoughts that rose in her head. Dumbledore continued,  
  
'I'm sure you realise we cannot afford to lose either you or Professor Snape. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that there is only one place we can hide you.'  
  
'Where?'  
  
He smiled sadly.  
  
'In time, Hermione. In the past, or the future, within your own lifetime. It is the only way we can ensure your safety until this is over.'  
  
Hermione looked horrified, but even she, in her abused state, could see the logic behind such a decision. Her quick mind latched on to the consequences of such a move, and began to work through the pros and cons of the past and future. Dumbledore was relieved to see that her intellect had not been affected by her traumatic experiences, and was soon fielding many questions from her.  
  
'The choice is yours, Hermione. No one else can make it for you.'  
  
She nodded slowly, already knowing which way she would go. Her heart couldn't take seeing Harry again, she would never want to leave. The future was her only hope of escaping her father's legacy. The phoenix beside her cooed softly, gazing up at her curiously. She glanced up, to see the Headmaster looking at her, a question in his blue eyes.  
  
'I understand, Professor,' Hermione said, her voice surprising her with its levelness. 'And I agree. The future is the only place I can hide.'  
  
Dumbledore nodded sadly, reaching into his desk for something.  
  
'I believe you are familiar with the use of one of these?'  
  
The Time-Turner dangled from his hand. Hermione smiled, remembering her third year and the extra hours of work she had put in with that innocent- looking device.  
  
'I believe I am, Professor.'  
  
'Then take it, Hermione. Try ten years from now. It should be easy enough to reach. You don't have to leave immediately, but I will expect you gone by nightfall. You are no longer safe.'  
  
Taking the delicate magical device, Hermione nodded, knowing the seriousness of her decision. Dumbledore came around the desk again, enveloping her in a hug.  
  
'Take care, Hermione. You could be our last hope.'  
  
Tearfully, Hermione hugged the old man back, releasing him in time to hear him mutter,  
  
'And I dread to think what Minerva would do to me should anything happen to you.'  
  
With a quiet laugh, she left the room, concealing the Time-Turner in her robes. She had understood the unspoken command to keep her mission a secret.  
  
Sirius met her by the gargoyle, Snape sweeping past without a backward glance at her. For some reason that hurt Hermione, but she couldn't, for the life of her, work out why.  
  
Walking through the hallways, back to her rooms, she was aware that Sirius was itching to know what had been said. He remained silent, however, choosing to let her decide when she would tell him. Hermione turned to him before she disappeared into her bedroom.  
  
'Sirius, take care of yourself, okay?'  
  
Confused, he readily agreed, unaware that this could be the last time he would ever see her. He was even more puzzled when she threw her arms about his neck, holding him close and making him promise not to get himself killed.  
  
'Hermione, what's going on?'  
  
She gave him a sad smile.  
  
'I can't say. I'm sorry.'  
  
He smiled back, dismissing her outburst as a touch of paranoia.  
  
'Goodnight, Hermione.'  
  
'Night.'  
  
She shut the door, and gazed about the little room. Removing the Time- Turner from her robes, she examined it, slowly going over what it was she would have to do to reach the time Dumbledore had suggested. Taking a deep breath, she set the little device and turned it, feeling the room lurch around her.  
  
Stale air constricted her throat, making her cough. Unable to breathe through the dust that suddenly coated everything around her, Hermione stumbled over to the window, fighting with the catch to allow some fresh air into the room. In desperation, she punched at the glass, hearing it shatter as she collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. 


	16. Surprises

Hermione's chest was burning, a dull slow fire that slowly began to dissipate as she woke from her unconscious state. She remembered turning the Time-Turner, and arriving in a room filled with such stale air, she had fainted. She could hear a soft mumbling.  
  
Opening her eyes, she saw that she was in the Hospital Wing. She shifted slightly, her chest tightening with the exertion. The tapping of footsteps announced the arrival of Madame Pomfrey. The medi-witch looked older, as if all the cares of the world had been placed on her shoulders, and a grim smile curved her lips.  
  
'Well, madam, now you're awake, perhaps you would like to explain why you were in a room that has been shut up for ten years? You nearly asphyxiated through the dust.'  
  
Hermione pulled herself agonisingly upright.  
  
'Madame Pomfrey?'  
  
The old medi-witch's eyes narrowed.  
  
'Yes. How did you know my name?'  
  
'I . . .' Hermione hesitated. 'Someone in my family used to come here. She told me all about you.'  
  
'Who?'  
  
'Hermione Granger.'  
  
Madame Pomfrey's features softened suddenly, a genuine smile breaking on her face.  
  
'So you're Hermione's cousin? She's been talking about you coming to visit for weeks! What's your name?'  
  
Hermione felt a stab of panic; what would her older self have named her? In desperation, she blurted out the only name she could think of, her middle name.  
  
'Louise,' she said, swallowing the lump of fear that had risen in her throat. 'I'm Louise.'  
  
Madame Pomfrey nodded.  
  
'Yes, of course. Hermione's teaching at the moment, but I'm sure she'll come and collect you soon. You must be really looking forward to seeing her.'  
  
As she chatted, the medi-witch checked 'Louise's' vital signs, pronouncing her fit and healthy. A set of fresh robes were laid on the bed, and she was helped into them, enjoying the inane chatter that flowed from Madame Pomfrey's mouth.  
  
She moved over to the window, gazing out over the never-changing grounds of Hogwarts. A quiet gasp drew her attention back to her companion.  
  
'What is it?'  
  
'You look just like Hermione did when she was your age,' Madame Pomfrey said. 'That's why you looked so familiar. Anyway, I must be getting on, so make yourself comfortable until your cousin arrives.'  
  
Hermione watched the old witch hurry out, a smile playing about her lips. What had happened to make the stern medi-witch so chatty? Her eyes returned to the central courtyard, her thoughts to her older self. What would she be like? Madame Pomfrey had said she was teaching; teaching what?  
  
A hundred questions soared through her mind, all unanswered. Hermione didn't understand why she felt so calm. She was in an unfamiliar version of her world, where she didn't know who had won the war, or what was going to happen to herself.  
  
There was a knock on the door.  
  
'Louise? It's Hermione.'  
  
Hermione swallowed, staring as her older self stepped into the room with Madame Pomfrey. There was an immediate shock in store for her as she saw the older Hermione's belly was swollen in the final stages of pregnancy. There was also a wedding ring on her finger.  
  
The older Hermione smiled welcomingly, wrapping her arms about the startled girl.  
  
'I know this is a bit of a shock,' she whispered, 'but I will explain everything when we are alone.'  
  
She pulled back.  
  
'Louise, it's so good to see you! Why didn't you tell us you were coming today?'  
  
Thrown off-balance, Hermione managed a shy smile, wiping the shocked expression off her face.  
  
'I wanted it to be a surprise. I didn't realise I was going to end up in hospital.'  
  
Madame Pomfrey laughed, gazing at the two of them fondly.  
  
'Well, I'm sure you have an explanation for why you were in Hermione's old rooms,' she said, gliding past and re-making the bed. 'Go on, both of you. Hagrid's bringing the children up after dinner, Hermione. They're having too much fun with him to come home now.'  
  
The older Hermione laughed indulgently, and pulled her younger self out through the door. She turned to the younger girl.  
  
'Follow me, and act like you've never been here before. I've been waiting for Dumbledore to send you for ages. What took him so long?'  
  
Hermione felt more than a little lost at sea as she followed herself through the familiar hallways. As they turned down the steps to the dungeons, she stepped closer to the pregnant woman and hissed,  
  
'Where are we going?'  
  
'To my quarters, of course,' she answered, looking confused. Then enlightenment dawned. 'Oh, of course, you don't know about our husband, do you? Boy, is this going to be a shock.'  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
'Well -'  
  
A small first year scurried past, nodding to the older Hermione with a grin.  
  
'Afternoon, Professor Snape!'  
  
The younger Hermione stopped dead, her face white with shock.  
  
'Snape? I'm going to marry Snape? That greasy, arrogant git?'  
  
'Shhh, you. He's not an arrogant git anymore, I've mellowed him. And you're going to fall in love with him, Hermione, so calm down and keep walking.'  
  
She was ushered into a suite of rooms beyond the Potion's classroom, half expecting to see the greasy git himself packing up after the school day. The older woman caught her looking curiously into the classroom.  
  
'He's not there,' she said, making her younger self jump. 'He doesn't teach Potions anymore.'  
  
'Oh.'  
  
Hermione's gaze was drawn to the room they were in. In contrast to her expectations of Snape's inner sanctuary, it was light and airy, light shining in from a window placed high up in the wall. Two desks stood against the opposite wall, one covered in a chaotic mess of papers, the other neatly kept. A sofa and two chairs stood around the fireplace, over which hung a portrait of a wedding day. Her wedding day.  
  
Hermione found herself drawn to it. There she was, looking not much older than she was now, dressed in a flowing white dress reminiscent of the medieval period she was so fond of. With her stood Snape, his arms about her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. He was smiling, a genuinely cheerful smile. They looked so happy together. The two figures waved to her, curtseying and bowing before returning to their pose.  
  
'Hard to believe, isn't it?'  
  
She turned, seeing her older self smiling sympathetically at her. She nodded, moving to stand away from the painting. The older Hermione motioned her to take a seat. As she did so, another, smaller photograph caught her eye. Glancing at her companion for permission, she lifted it, watching the figures within playing happily. There were three children, two girls and a boy. The three all shared raven-black hair and cinnamon eyes, marking them as Snape and the older Hermione's children. Her children. They grinned up at her, continuing their game with gusto.  
  
'What are their names?' she asked softly, feeling lost.  
  
The mother of the three came over and pointed to each of them, her arm around the younger girl's shoulders.  
  
'That's Morgan, she's eight, and Anna, who was three last week. And the boy is Albus. He'll be six in two months.'  
  
Despite herself, Hermione smiled at the choice of names. Morgan Le Fay, her mother's name, and the Headmaster's name. It fitted somehow. She returned the photograph to the mantelpiece, and sat down beside herself.  
  
'What's going on?' she asked, wanting to know how everything had happened, how she had ended up married to Snape.  
  
Her older self gave her a rueful smile.  
  
'Are you sure you want to know? Not just so you can re-arrange this future?'  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
'I won't intentionally change anything. You seem happy enough.'  
  
'All right, then. Basically, it goes like this . . .'  
  
Hermione listened, entranced, as she was told her future by the woman she would become.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
The door burst open, making Hermione jump. As she turned, her eyes wide with astonishment, Snape strode in, his face like thunder. He stopped abruptly, staring between the two women.  
  
'Bloody hell,' he muttered.  
  
The older Hermione stood with a smile.  
  
'And good evening to you, too, Severus.'  
  
A fond smile creased the Potions Master's face as he took his young wife in his arms, kissing her forehead softly. His hand ran gently over her bump. Embarrassed, Hermione looked away, unable to believe that her forbidding professor was capable of such unashamed love.  
  
'This is Louise, Severus. She's finally come to visit.'  
  
Hermione turned back, to be faced with an openly smiling Snape. He put out his hand.  
  
'Welcome to Hogwarts, Louise.'  
  
He shook her hand. Hermione forced herself to react, smiling and nodding politely. Remember, Granger, you've never met him before. Louise doesn't know he's an unfeeling bastard.  
  
'Thank you, Professor Snape.'  
  
He waved a hand noncommitantly.  
  
'Don't call me that, you sound like one of my students.'  
  
Hermione blinked in surprise, exchanging a glance with her older self. Snape saw the look and smiled.  
  
'I do apologise for my outburst as I entered. You look so much like Hermione did when she was your age, I was taken aback.'  
  
He sighed wearily, glancing about the room.  
  
'Where are the spawn of Satan?'  
  
The older Hermione laughed, and gave a gasp of mock indignation.  
  
'Anyone would think you didn't like your children, Severus!'  
  
He shrugged, wrapping his arms about her. She kissed him softly.  
  
'They're staying with Hagrid until after the meal,' she told him.  
  
The younger Hermione was beginning to feel as if she was in the way. Snape looked up, remembering she was there.  
  
'Have you found a room for your cousin, love?'  
  
At his wife's answering nod, he turned back to 'Louise'.  
  
'She hasn't shown you where it is yet, has she?'  
  
Hermione felt a small smile tug at her lips at his resigned tone. He seemed so pleasant now, not at all like his younger self from her time. She shook her head, and was soon exploring a single room, one of many along the Snape's corridor. Each child had a separate bedroom, as well as there being two workrooms, a bathroom and a dining room. The dungeons extended a lot further than she would have thought.  
  
The older woman knocked quietly, slipping into the room with a mischievous smile. She produced her wand and translocated a travelling trunk full of clothes to the foot of Hermione's bed.  
  
'To avoid awkward questions,' she explained.  
  
Hermione gave her a grateful smile.  
  
'Thank you.'  
  
'Don't thank me until you've met the children,' the older Hermione said, with a wry grin. 'Hurry and change. Dinner is in the Great Hall tonight.'  
  
She slipped out, leaving Hermione to change. As she sorted through the collection of robes and other garments, it occurred to her that her future self had done a lot to prepare the future for her arrival. Perhaps Dumbledore's plan would work, and she would find herself telling her friends about her cousin Louise in a few years' time. A smile curved her lips. That wasn't such a bad prospect.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione spent an enjoyable couple of hours in the Great Hall, sitting between her older self and Professor Sprout, who kept her engaged in conversation the entire time. She was aware of Dumbledore watching her, his blue eyes twinkling, and she had realised with a start that he was the only other person who knew of her real identity. That had reassured her, knowing that there was someone besides herself she could talk to freely.  
  
She had been greatly saddened to hear of the deaths of many among whom she had counted her friends, including Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Ron. In this reality, they had all been killed in the Dark Lord's attack on Hogwarts as he searched for his elusive daughter.  
  
As they approached the door to the Snape's apartment, it flew open, and three small figures threw themselves at their parents. Hermione watched, with an odd longing in her heart, as the little family laughed and joked, expressing affection through the simplest word or gesture.  
  
She felt a gentle tug on her hand. Looking down, she found the youngest girl, Anna, holding her hand, gazing up at her with eyes that were so like her own.  
  
'Who're you?' the little girl asked innocently.  
  
Hermione caught herself just in time.  
  
'I'm Her - her cousin, Louise.'  
  
Morgan leapt out of her father's arms and into Hermione's, swinging her around.  
  
'We've been waiting so long!'  
  
Anna prodded her knee.  
  
'Up,' she commanded, and Hermione lifted her up into her arms.  
  
Her older self looked on with pride, as her son wandered over to join his sisters in their appraisal of the new addition to their family. She knew they would accept her, she just hoped it wouldn't be as painful for the younger girl as it had been for her. It was a futile hope, she knew. Her husband slipped an arm about her shoulders, calling to the children.  
  
'Come now, children, let go of your cousin and let her inside before the interrogation begins.'  
  
The mother grinned as she watched herself dragged bodily into their quarters by three excited children. Severus knew their children almost better than they knew themselves.  
  
As soon as they had her settled on the sofa, the children began to fire questions at Hermione, demanding to know all about her. She answered them as best she could, finding answers for questions she felt certain she would slip up on. When she hesitated, her older self would chime in, providing an answer for her. By the time the three went to bed, Hermione was exhausted. She excused herself a few hours later, leaving the Snapes to retire alone.  
  
'Do you really think Hermione will settle in, love?'  
  
'Yes, I d - what do you mean, Hermione?'  
  
Snape grinned at his wife's outraged expression.  
  
'I'm not stupid, you know. There are just too many similarities between you for it to be coincidence. That young woman is you, love, don't try to deny it.'  
  
She made a face.  
  
'Charming,' he said, climbing into bed beside her and feeling her nestle against him. 'How long will she stay?'  
  
His wife sighed.  
  
'As long as it takes.'  
  
'For what?'  
  
'For me to remember what it was I did that defeated Voldemort.' 


	17. Heartache

Snape stormed along the hallways, bursting in on the Headmaster.  
  
'Where is she?' he demanded, his pale face dark with rage.  
  
Dumbledore gave him a polite smile.  
  
'Where is who, Severus?'  
  
The Potions Master stiffened. He knew he was being teased, and was not in the mood to tolerate it.  
  
'Hermione!'  
  
'Ah, yes, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore gestured for Snape to take a seat. 'She's safe, Severus.'  
  
'Where?'  
  
'I can't tell you.'  
  
Snape's voice became deceptively quiet.  
  
'Would you care to explain that statement, Headmaster?'  
  
'If I tell you where she is hidden, Voldemort will pluck that information from your mind and use it to retrieve his daughter. I don't think either of us want that, do we?'  
  
Snape sat back, suddenly weary. He understood Dumbledore's reasoning, but the thought of Hermione alone somewhere, with no one to protect her, clawed at his being. He had been livid on discovering that she was gone, finding Sirius drowning his sorrows in her rooms. The Animagus had blamed himself for what he thought was her capture and was all for drinking himself to death.  
  
The Potions Master felt the worry seep through him, tensing his every muscle. He knew Dumbledore had his reasons for doing this, but to remove Hermione from the sphere of his protection was almost more than he could bear. He ran a hand through his hair, his black eyes sparkling with unshed tears of frustration.  
  
The Headmaster looked at him sadly.  
  
'I understand, Severus. I know how you feel.'  
  
'What can you know of my feelings? Have you not heard the students? I am the cold unfeeling bastard of their nightmares.'  
  
Snape stood and strode to the door, stopping just short of it in shame. He had never snapped at Dumbledore like that. The old wizard was the closest thing he had to family, he couldn't afford to lose him.  
  
'I apologise,' he murmured. 'That was uncalled for.'  
  
'As I said, Severus, I understand.'  
  
The Potions Master turned back to the room, to find Dumbledore gazing at him with such sympathy, he felt crushed for his anger. He knew he was not the only one to worry so about the young girl, but to lose her without ever having had her was a burden he found impossible to bear. First she had gone to Potter, and now she was gone where he could not follow. He felt his suppressed emotions begin to push at the barriers he had so painstakingly erected in his youth.  
  
'I love her, Albus.'  
  
That admission torn from his throat, Snape left, not prepared to let even the Headmaster see his pain. Dumbledore gazed sadly after him.  
  
'Oh, my boy. I know.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Staring out of the window, watching as Snape played with his children in the summer sunshine, Hermione found herself wondering again how all this could come about. She had been given an abbreviated version, knowing that to know every detail would be to destroy any hope of receiving this future for herself. And she had slowly come to realise, over the weeks that she had been forward in time, that she did want this future very much. She wanted Morgan, Albus and Anna for her children. She wanted to teach Potions at Hogwarts.  
  
She even wanted Snape as a husband, had felt her heart softening towards him from the first. The man she saw in the dungeon apartments was the man beneath the mask of Professor Snape. He was still known as the greasy git by the students in the school, so much so that they often wondered how he had ever convinced her older self to marry him. And yet, here, when he was away from the prying eyes of students, he became a softer, kinder man, unashamed of his feelings. The Snape she thought she knew would never have admitted his feelings for a student, yet he had. He had loved her enough to open his dark life to her, to let her illuminate it with her love.  
  
For that was what she felt, love. Harry was a painful stab in her heart every time her feelings betrayed her, his memory slowly receding from her mind. He would have wanted her to be happy. Perhaps not with Snape, but then Harry had always gone against expectations. He would always hold a special place in her heart, but now another, deeper love was making itself known.  
  
A groan brought her attention back into the room where the older Hermione was searching for a book. She was leaning on the back of a chair, one hand clutched to her abdomen, her lips pressed tightly together. Her younger self watched in horror as a ripple flowed across her belly.  
  
'What is it? What's wrong?'  
  
The older Hermione waited for a few moments before straightening and giving the young woman a reassuring smile.  
  
'It's all right,' she said. 'It's just the contractions. My labour started this morning, but I don't need to mention it to Severus until my waters break.'  
  
Hermione blinked.  
  
'Right. Do you need me to do anything?'  
  
'I'd like you to look after the children tonight, if you could. We'll be in the Hospital Wing, I should think. My labours always seem to advance quickly.'  
  
'Of course! But, if you don't mind my asking, why haven't you told Severus?'  
  
Her older self smiled.  
  
'With Morgan, I told him when I had the first contraction and wasn't allowed to move from my bed until Poppy came and told him to remove himself from my side. That's five hours, 'Mione. Since then, I only tell him when it reaches the stage where I need him.'  
  
'That makes sense, I guess.'  
  
A shout drew their attention to the courtyard, where Snape had been manhandled to the ground and was struggling beneath his children who had piled on top of him. Both Hermione's laughed, identical proud smiles on their faces. Then the older woman hissed, her hand going to her swollen belly again. It would be a long day.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
'But what's Mummy doing, Louise?'  
  
Hermione looked tired. She'd had no idea what she'd let herself in for by agreeing to look after the children that night. They were excited by the idea of a new brother or sister, but not at all happy that the process took both parents away from them.  
  
'I don't know the details, Albus. If you want to know, you'll have to ask Mummy when she comes back.'  
  
Anna snuggled in closer to Hermione, ducking under her arm.  
  
'I don't want another brother or sister,' she said sulkily.  
  
'Neither do I,' Albus added.  
  
Morgan simply looked at Hermione, knowing it was pointless to voice such opinions now. Besides, she was curious as to how her 'cousin' would deal with this.  
  
Hermione looked from brother to sisters, and felt the beginnings of panic setting in. She didn't know how to convince them otherwise.  
  
'Why?' she asked. 'Why don't you want a baby in the family?'  
  
''Cos they're ugly and smelly and throw up all the time,' Albus replied promptly. He looked rather pleased with himself.  
  
'Not for long, though,' Hermione said, fairly certain that phase only lasted a few months.  
  
'They can't do stuff,' he added.  
  
'Like what?'  
  
'Walk.'  
  
Hermione bit down a smile at his injured expression.  
  
'Walking is something that has to be learned, Albus. And you can help to teach the baby everything it needs to know.'  
  
Albus opened his mouth to reply, and hesitated, not having anything else to say. Morgan spoke up.  
  
'You can't even touch them without Mum or Dad's permission. They're too delicate, apparently.'  
  
'Would you like it if you couldn't move away or tell people how you feel and someone four times the size of you came over and began to prod and poke you?'  
  
Hermione fixed the eight-year-old with a no-nonsense look. Morgan pondered the question for a moment, then shook her head.  
  
'Do you think babies enjoy it?'  
  
'I guess not,' Morgan said quietly.  
  
Hermione smiled at her, glad to see that her argument appeared to have worked, on both sister and brother. Beside her, Anna nestled closer.  
  
'Mummy won't love me anymore,' she said sadly, tears sparkling in her cinnamon eyes.  
  
Hermione realised suddenly that this was the root of their problem with the new baby. It was something she had never had to go through, being an only child, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this assumption was wrong.  
  
'Of course she'll love you, Anna. She'll still love all of you just as much as she does now. And the same goes for your father, too. They'll just have another little one to love as well, and babies are hard work. But do you think Mummy and Daddy would have had you three if they didn't think they could spread their love evenly among you? You lot are the most important thing in their lives, and when the new baby comes, it will join you as one of those things. There aren't any favourites in this family, so you don't need to worry about being left out. Your Mummy will love you all forever, because every one of you is special to her.'  
  
She felt the tension in the room dissipate as her words sank in. Morgan gave her a grateful smile.  
  
'Thanks, Louise.'  
  
The other two hastened to add their thanks, not to be outdone by their sister.  
  
'Are we interrupting anything?'  
  
Four heads turned to see the Snapes in the doorway, the older Hermione looking tired but happy, holding a small bundle in her arms.  
  
'We can come back later, if you'd like.'  
  
The three children leapt up and drew their parents into the room, making space on the sofa for their mother and the baby. Anna climbed into her father's arms to look at the sleeping child.  
  
'What is it?'  
  
Snape laughed.  
  
'It's a baby girl, Anna.'  
  
Ignoring his son's exasperated sigh of 'Another girl!', Snape lowered his daughter so she could see her little sister.  
  
'What's her name?' Hermione asked, caught up in the moment.  
  
The parents exchanged a secretive smile.  
  
'She's called Louise,' the woman said, sharing the delighted grin that burst out on Hermione's face. 'We thought you'd appreciate that.'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Snape drew in a deep breath in an attempt to quell his shaking. He had been summoned before Voldemort to explain why he had not yet delivered Hermione to the evil wizard.  
  
'Am I to understand that Dumbledore is now keeping secrets from his inner circle, Snape? That you really do have no knowledge of my daughter's whereabouts?'  
  
'Yes, Master.'  
  
Voldemort's eyes blazed.  
  
'Do you have an explanation for this?'  
  
Snape swallowed.  
  
'I believe he may suspect my allegiance, Master. He could be deliberately hiding the truth from me but not from others.'  
  
'Without your services as a spy, Snape, you are worse than useless to me. Crucio.'  
  
Snape dropped to the ground with a hoarse cry, totally unprepared for the explosion of pain that shot through his body. As he lay, twitching, on the stone floor, Voldemort circled him, kicking viciously.  
  
'This is your last chance, Snape. Either you find my wayward spawn, or your days will be numbered in excruciating agony. Find her!'  
  
He muttered a word, and the twitching body disappeared, translocated to Hogsmeade, still in the throes of the Cruciatus. The dark wizard screamed in fury.  
  
'Where is she?' 


	18. Inspiration

Hermione watched in fascination from the back of the classroom as her older self took a fifth year class of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. She had slowly come to realise that she was quite good at teaching. The students sat and listened attentively, and she got the same results as Snape without even half the unpleasantness.  
  
'Professor Snape?'  
  
The older Hermione smiled at the Ravenclaw girl.  
  
'Yes, Mortiana?'  
  
'Why do we have to wear dragon-hide gloves when we're using dragon's blood?'  
  
'Because, Mortiana, should any of you have even the smallest cut on your hands, and you spilt the blood, you would be dead before I even reached your side. Dragon's blood is fatal should it mix with human blood. Yes, Peter?'  
  
As she moved on to the next question, the younger Hermione felt her mind begin to work. This was her chance. There were supplies of dragon's blood in the Potion's stores in this time where there weren't in her own. All she needed to do was get close enough to Voldemort to scratch his skin with a needle or a blade covered in dragon's blood. It was perfect, and so simple. With a confident smile, she quietly left the room, determined to iron out any problems.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Dumbledore stared disconsolately out of the window.  
  
'I'm worried for her, Minerva.'  
  
His wife looked up from her desk, where she was already planning the next year's lessons. A sad smile formed on her face.  
  
'We all are, Albus. Hermione knows how to look after herself. I would say it is Severus we need to worry about at the moment.'  
  
He nodded absently.  
  
'I know. But at least there is something we can do for him. Hermione is alone.'  
  
Minerva came around to stand beside him, her hand slipping into his.  
  
'You can't know that,' she softly chided, not accustomed to seeing her husband so melancholy. 'For all we know, our future selves are with her now. She could be with her future self. Don't discount such possibilities, Albus.'  
  
'You're right, my heart, as always. She is a resourceful girl. Perhaps she will even find a way to help us.'  
  
His wife kissed his cheek gently.  
  
'Perhaps,' she said. 'Now, shouldn't you go and talk to Severus?'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
The old wizard stood in the doorway of Snape's dungeon apartment and watched as the Potions Master paced the room, oblivious to his audience. Snape had discharged himself from Madame Pomfrey's care hours ago and had spent the intervening time trying to decide what to do.  
  
He could refuse to find Hermione, and be subjected to a slow and painful death. Or he could try to find her, fail, and be subjected to a slow and painful death. He could give her up to the Dark Lord, and watch as her innocent soul was corrupted by the evil of her father. No, that was never an option. He would die before seeing her in Voldemort's clutches again.  
  
He wished he knew where she was. There was no control over her movements, no restrictions on her activities that he could see. Dumbledore appeared to have no more knowledge of what was going on that he did. Was she dead?  
  
'You know fully well that she isn't, Severus.'  
  
Shocked, the pale man stopped abruptly. He glared at the Headmaster.  
  
'How kind of you to spare me the tedium of welcome by just letting yourself into my private rooms, Professor,' he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
Dumbledore smiled pleasantly and sat down, not bothering to wait for an invitation to do so. He knew that, given half the chance, Snape would have slammed the door in his face.  
  
'How are you feeling?'  
  
'Like I've recently been hit with a many times amplified Cruciatus. And you?'  
  
Snape resumed his pacing, deliberately ignoring his old friend. Dumbledore waited, patiently.  
  
'I have one more chance. Then my life is forfeit.'  
  
A shadow passed over the old wizard's face.  
  
'Not if I have anything to do with it, Severus.'  
  
'What can you do? Nothing.'  
  
Silence reigned in the small space for several minutes as the men studied one another. Words passed between them, unspoken but understood. Dumbledore stood, coming before his Potions teacher.  
  
'You cannot go again so soon, Severus. You have been severely weakened. I will not risk you again.'  
  
He held up a hand to wave off the man's protestations.  
  
'My mind is made up, Severus. You will remain here, with us, until we can think of a solution to our mutual problem.'  
  
The Potions Master looked rebellious for a moment, then sagged in despair. He had never looked so helpless in his life.  
  
'He'll find her, Albus. I'd rather die than see him hurt her any further.'  
  
Dumbledore looked at him approvingly, with a sad twinkle in his eye. He squeezed the younger man's shoulder.  
  
'I know, Severus. Who wouldn't, for the one they love?'  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione looked up as Morgan manhandled a huge book onto the sofa. The eight-year-old grinned, and clambered up beside her, Albus following closely.  
  
'What on earth is that for, guys?'  
  
Albus shifted slightly, turning the book around so that Hermione could get a look at the title. She read 'Dragon's Blood: The Defeat Of The Dark Lord'. Her eyebrows rose.  
  
'Why have you brought me this?'  
  
They looked at one another a little guiltily. Albus smiled nervously at his 'cousin'.  
  
'Well, you see, we sort of overheard you and Mummy talking about dragon's blood . . .'  
  
'And I remembered this book from the library,' Morgan added.  
  
Hermione gave them a look of polite interest.  
  
'Do go on,' she said quietly.  
  
They exchanged another guilty look.  
  
'We, er, borrowed Mum's Invisibility Cloak and got this out for you,' Morgan told her, her cheeks flaming.  
  
Hermione felt a sad tug at her heart, remembering the last owner of the Cloak. Strangely, thinking of Harry no longer hurt, it just made her sad for the life he would never have lived. She wondered when that had changed. It stood to reason, she supposed, that since Ron had died too, she would have found herself the proud possessor of the Potter Cloak. Right now, however, she was more interested in the children's motives.  
  
'Why?'  
  
Albus coughed.  
  
'You wanted to know about dragon's blood, and this has got everything about dragon's blood in it. It was used to kill Voldemort, you know,' he added.  
  
Hermione tensed suddenly. Her simple little plan would work?  
  
'Who killed him?' she asked, curious.  
  
'No one knows, and if they do, they aren't telling,' Albus said. 'Who wouldn't want to claim the defeat of the darkest most evil man who ever lived?'  
  
Someone who wouldn't want to confess the murder of their own father, Hermione thought darkly. Privately she thanked whoever was watching over her that she would give birth to such inquisitive children, especially ones with a desire to help. She gave them a stern look.  
  
'Well, I suppose I don't have to tell you that what you've done is a very bad thing,' she said, watching their faces fall. 'And as long as you don't tell anyone, I won't either.'  
  
Albus threw his arms about her neck in joy.  
  
'We won't, we promise.'  
  
Hermione, laughing, disentangled herself.  
  
'Now, I want you both to promise me you won't mention this to your parents. They wouldn't approve of me dragging you into my problems.'  
  
'You didn't,' Morgan protested. 'We did the dragging.'  
  
'I know that, and you know that, but they don't, and I'd prefer it if they didn't have to know. Understand?'  
  
They nodded. Hermione swept them into her arms and hugged them tight.  
  
'Thank you.' 


	19. Cheating

Hermione waited until her older self had retired for the night, with Snape, and slipped into the living room. She retrieved the book from where Morgan and Albus had hidden it, moving over to one of the desks. She lit the candle, and sat down, the leather bound book before her. 'Dragon's Blood: The Defeat Of The Dark Lord'.  
  
Opening the volume carefully, Hermione scanned the pages until she reached the penultimate chapter.  
  
'For many years,' she read, 'the death of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, was something people such as ourselves could only dream of. It was the hope that one day it would happen that kept us from giving up. But it would appear that, for one person at least, it was a problem that had to be solved.  
  
'In the last year of his reign, it was rumoured that Voldemort was searching for his daughter, a child who had been removed from his side just hours after her birth and placed within the Muggle world for protection. He decided that she would be hidden at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the safest place in Britain.  
  
'Under the cover of darkness, Voldemort and a group of trusted followers entered Hogwarts, determined to take the girl from Albus Dumbledore's protection. They were met by the professors of Hogwarts in a confrontation that left many casualties on either side. Meanwhile, a battle was being fought in the nearby village of Hogsmeade, where Aurors and Death- Eaters had gathered to await news of the raid.  
  
'Fleeing from his enemies, his followers killed, Voldemort hid in one of the inner rooms of the school, thought to be where his daughter had stayed. He found himself in the company of the one person who could rid the world of his presence. Not much is known of what transpired during his brief sojourn in the rooms, but when the weary professors reached them, they found his body. It was a dry, withered husk, the skin all but falling off bones that were crumbling under the weight of useless muscles. His wand lay in his hand, and beside the body, a knife of some kind. It was liberally smeared with dragon's blood. The Dark Lord Voldemort was dead.  
  
'To this day, no one has come forward to claim the honour of being his killer, and the saviour of the wizarding world. Some say it was a double agent, working for both Dumbledore and Voldemort, perhaps even Professor Severus Snape. Others say it could have been a Death-Eater, a desperate man who saw no other way out of his predicament. Or perhaps it was this fabled daughter, and she, too, perished with her father. No one can be certain. All we know is that dragon's blood was the downfall of the Dark Lord, and the end of his evil ways forever.'  
  
Hermione sat back with a frown, the book forgotten on the desk before her. That couldn't be right, it was too simple, too obvious. Voldemort would never have been fooled by her. Her thoughts were too transparent even to her friends. Such a powerful dark wizard would never let her near him without a good reason. Besides, dragon's blood didn't have that effect on people. It just clotted their blood, it didn't dry them out and weaken their bones.  
  
She blew out the candle, returning the book to its hiding place. Something wasn't quite right with that account, and she was going to have to find out what.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
There was a knock on the door. Both Hermiones looked up as Snape moved to open it. He invited the Headmaster in, offering Dumbledore a chair and excusing himself in the same breath. He gathered the children to him, and escorted them out of the room. The Hermiones exchanged a glance and turned to the old wizard sitting between them.  
  
'Good evening, Albus,' the older Hermione said, setting tiny Louise in her basket. 'To what do we owe this pleasure?'  
  
Dumbledore gave her a fond smile.  
  
'I am under the impression from Madame Pince that a book has gone missing from the library again. The Restricted Section, I'm afraid.'  
  
The older woman laughed.  
  
'I dare say Morgan and Albus have been teasing her again. It's a harmless prank.'  
  
'Not this book, Hermione.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
The younger Hermione felt her heart sink. She'd tried so hard to keep the Snapes out of this. Dumbledore didn't look at her as he answered her older self.  
  
''Dragon's Blood: The Defeat Of The Dark Lord' is not something I would have thought your children would have had any interest in.'  
  
The older Hermione paled.  
  
'What?'  
  
'I was wondering if young Hermione here would have any ideas as to its whereabouts?'  
  
He turned to the younger girl. She swallowed.  
  
'I took it, Headmaster. I had an idea and I wanted to see if it had worked.'  
  
His eyebrow rose.  
  
'That, Miss Granger, is known as cheating.'  
  
She smiled despite herself.  
  
'I know, but it didn't help anyway. I'm no closer to my solution than before.'  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
She shifted under their gazes; it didn't help that one of them was herself.  
  
'Well, it's just too simple,' she said. 'Surely whoever it was wouldn't have been so clumsy as to have left their weapon behind. And the book said that the knife was liberally smeared with dragon's blood. If it had been stuck into Voldemort, wouldn't the blood be his?'  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
'You are quite right, Miss Granger. I was correct when I said you could be his downfall. You must therefore find another route down which to go.'  
  
He rose.  
  
'When you're finished with the volume, be so kind as to return it, please. Good evening, Hermione.'  
  
'Good evening, Professor,' they both chanted as he left.  
  
Hermione turned to her older self.  
  
'What did he mean, I could be his downfall?'  
  
The older woman looked at her with withering sarcasm. Apparently marriage to Snape would teach her a few things.  
  
'If your memory's that bad, Hermione, you'll never defeat Voldemort. Remember what Dumbledore said to you the first time he came for you, the night you dived in front of the curse intended for Lavender. Then let that amazing brain of yours do what it's there for. Think, Hermione.'  
  
Hermione sat back, her brow furrowing in lines of concentration. Her mind hastily replayed the events of her final year at Hogwarts, the night she had seen her friends threatened because of who she was. Dumbledore's words echoed in her mind.  
  
*  
  
'. . . with your remarkably well timed dive into the Cruciatus, you did, in fact, stop Voldemort. From what I can gather, he was so mortified at having hurt you, he leapt out of the window and flew off.'  
  
'Why would he do that?' Harry had asked.  
  
'I believe it is because Hermione is the only thing he has ever truly loved, Harry. She is his daughter, he has loved her since the day she was born.'  
  
  
  
*  
  
That couldn't be right, could it? Would Voldemort really be mortified at hurting her? Slowly a plan began to form in Hermione's mind.  
  
If what Dumbledore had said was true, her father would not be able to stand aside while his only child was in danger, whatever the danger was. And Hermione knew that there was only one thing he would be able to do to save her. If he didn't, she had nothing to lose.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Snape stood in the silent room, letting the stillness wash over him. He didn't know why he was here, he had just felt a sudden compulsion to enter the rooms from which his love had disappeared only days before.  
  
He felt his heart clench abruptly as he thought of Hermione. Finally he had just resigned himself to his feelings, too tired to fight it anymore. He loved her with his heart and soul. She was his light and he would do anything to protect her.  
  
There was an explosion that rocked the castle to its very foundations, making him stagger. In shock, he realised that Voldemort must have given up on him and had come to fetch Hermione himself. Drawing his wand, he stumbled to the door as another crash echoed through the ancient building.  
  
As he reached the door, he heard a soft 'pop' behind him, followed by a quiet cursing in a very familiar voice. He turned, his expression incredulous, to see Hermione picking herself up off the floor where she had fallen only moments before.  
  
She smiled at him.  
  
'Hello Professor.' 


	20. Consequences

The professors advanced slowly on the group of Death-Eaters, knowing full well that among them stood the bane of the wizarding world. Voldemort smiled grimly, looking forward to the slaughter. He nodded to his followers who drew their wands.  
  
A hex caught the man to his right in the chest, throwing him away and cracking his head on the wall beside them. The Death-Eaters retaliated, and Professor Flitwick went down under a flurry of unfriendly curses. Then the magic began to fly.  
  
Curses and hexes flew through the air, the only sound you could hear was a cacophony of incantations being shouted. Despite his greater numbers, Voldemort found himself pushed back. For every one Hogwarts professor that went down, five of his Death-Eaters were stunned or killed. He realised that very soon he would be alone.  
  
He abandoned his followers and fled, searching for Hermione. Without her skills, he was defenceless against Dumbledore. The old wizard knew him too well. He stumbled down corridors, letting the call of his blood guide him. She was near, he could feel it. His daughter would not escape this time.  
  
He turned a corner, and found himself outside a locked door. His blood was baying loudly in his ears; she was in there. He unlocked the door, and silently slipped inside.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Snape only just managed to restrain himself from sweeping her into his arms. She was alive, and here with him, where he could keep her safe.  
  
'Miss Granger, I trust your trip was successful?'  
  
Damn it, he'd done it again. Whenever he felt he could not trust his emotions to keep from betraying him, he retreated behind the mask of the greasy git. Hermione smiled at his tone.  
  
'Yes, Professor, it was extremely successful.'  
  
He noticed her hand was in her pocket, fingering something. His eyes narrowed; what was she up to?  
  
'Perhaps you would like to explain where you've been? You have worried a great many people.'  
  
Her cinnamon eyes locked on his black ones, gazing at him with an unreadable emotion. He felt himself drawn in by her, unable to stop moving a step towards her.  
  
'I did not mean to worry so many people. I apologise,' Hermione murmured, mesmerised by what she found in his eyes. He loved her. A sense of security flowed through her. All she would need to do would be to get him to confess it.  
  
'You are important to us, Miss Granger.' To me, he added in the silence of his mind.  
  
A slow rhythmic clapping suddenly ripped through the still air. With a start, the two turned to see Voldemort applauding them from the doorway, his eyes red with anger. He glared at Snape.  
  
'So this is why you were unable to find her,' he snarled. 'You wished to keep her for yourself? That is dishonesty, Snape, and I will not stand for it!'  
  
Snape was thrown against the wall, the impact stunning him momentarily. He saw, through a haze of concussion, Voldemort advancing on him, his wand outstretched. Hermione quietly dropped a knife onto the floor, un-noticed by either men. It glinted red in the summer sunlight. She stepped forward to prevent Snape's imminent demise.  
  
'Wait!'  
  
Her voice halted her father, who turned to gaze coldly on her. Snape could just see the girl. She was holding a vial of something, something that pulsed bright blue light.  
  
'If you hurt him, or anyone else, I'll drink this. You'll never use my power for evil,' she declared, holding the vial aloft.  
  
Voldemort sneered.  
  
'You wouldn't. I have known women for over fifty years. You don't have the courage to stand up to me.'  
  
'My mother did.'  
  
Pain flashed across the Dark Lord's face, only for a moment, but long enough for Hermione to know she had hit home. For a moment she saw Tom Riddle in his eyes, looking out at her.  
  
'No!' Voldemort snarled, his face contorted into a hideous grimace. 'She was weak! If she had had the power to fight me, I would not have killed her!'  
  
His face changed, the features softening to those of an old man, whose love Hermione knew well.  
  
'Don't fight him, Hermione! He'll kill you!' he pleaded, before retreating back behind Voldemort, who glared at her.  
  
'If I fight him, I die, and if I join him, I die,' Hermione said softly. 'Where's the choice?'  
  
She uncorked the vial, letting the aroma waft about the room. As soon as the perfume reached Snape's nose, his blood ran cold. She was holding the most powerful poison known to exist on this world, the Ad Mortem Dessicare (to dry to death). It effects took hold within minutes, leaving the victim a dry husk. He knew for a fact that Hermione would not have any qualms about what she was about to sacrifice. And he loved her all the more for her ignorance and bravery.  
  
In horror, he watched as she lifted the vial to her lips. Voldemort sprang forward, his arm outstretched to knock it from her hand. Snape struggled to his feet, his aching body determined to save her.  
  
'Hermione, no!'  
  
Voldemort spun, shouting the Cruciatus with such rage that its effects were amplified many times over. Snape crashed against the wall, the sheer intensity of pain knocking him unconscious. Voldemort turned back, to find Hermione wiping her lips. The vial was empty.  
  
'You little fool!' he hissed, catching her as she fell suddenly.  
  
Hermione hoped against hope that she had been right. She was shaking, feeling the poison work its way through her body. She could already feel her skin beginning to dry out, her lips cracking from the lack of moisture.  
  
Voldemort knelt beside her, his face an agony of indecision. She was dying. His daughter, the one pure thing in his evil life was dying, because he had not believed that Aline's bravery could have been passed on to her. He felt his darker side pushed away, becoming, for the first time in years, Tom Riddle, Hermione's father. Tom forced Voldemort's hand to rise, pointing the wand at the dying girl.  
  
'Toxicum tuum ad meum translate (your poison to me transfer),' he forced from between clenched teeth, and watched, exhausted, as a haze of bright blue mist rose from Hermione's body. It hung, suspended, for a few moments, before slowly moving over to the Dark Lord.  
  
For the first time in his life, Voldemort knew fear. The man he had suppressed for all these years had finally defeated him. There was no way to reverse this spell, he knew. He was going to die. His wand clattered, forgotten, onto the floor. As he backed up against the door, he felt terror seep through his hated being. The mist drew closer.  
  
Suddenly, without warning, it flowed into his body, violently taking hold. He screamed a silent scream. Soon the air was once again still. The sunlight shone through the window. The Dark Lord had breathed his last.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hermione woke to a familiar voice.  
  
'Come on, Herm, wake up!'  
  
Her eyes fluttered open, unable to believe what she had heard. Ron was sat beside her bed, his big honest face creased with worry. She sat up with a cry of joy and threw her arms about him.  
  
'Ron, it's so good to see you!'  
  
Ron hugged her back, laying her back down on the bed when he noticed Madame Pomfrey's stern glance.  
  
'It's good to see you, too, Hermione. Everyone thought you were dead when we found you.'  
  
Hermione bit her lip, suddenly tearful.  
  
'Did . . . did it work?'  
  
Ron frowned, knowing that she deserved to know the truth, but unsure as to whether he could take seeing her cry again.  
  
'Yes, Herm. He's gone.'  
  
Hermione fought to contain the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.  
  
'Oh, good! I'm . . .'  
  
She couldn't finish her sentence. Ron wrapped his arms about her as the full horror of what she had done hit the fragile girl. Hermione sobbed like a child, her mind replaying the last few moments before she'd blacked out.  
  
'He saved me, Ron,' she whimpered, pressing her face into his shoulder. 'Tom Riddle saved me.'  
  
The boy tightened his grip, knowing how Hermione felt about Tom Riddle, despite her hatred of Voldemort. She'd even managed to convince him that they were two separate entities, and he could understand her grief.  
  
Slowly Hermione calmed, pushing away to wipe her face. She smiled gratefully up at her friend.  
  
'Thanks, Ron.'  
  
'No problem.'  
  
He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes.  
  
'Mum says you can come and stay with us until you get on your feet. And Dumbledore says you can stay here. It's up to you, really.'  
  
He glanced past her, to the bed beyond. He'd been told the other aspects of the battle as well. Hermione turned her head, and felt her heart plummet. In the next bed, looking as pale as death and still as the tomb, lay Professor Snape.  
  
'Will he be all right?' she asked quietly.  
  
Ron sighed.  
  
'They don't know, Herm. He hasn't woken up since . . . you know . . . and that was three days ago.'  
  
Hermione's eyes remained locked on the unconscious man. Her heart, already sore from the hurt she had suffered, was aching for him. She couldn't lose him, not now.  
  
  
  
*~*~*  
  
  
  
She sat beside the bed, lost in thought. Her hand held his, her eyes fixed on his unmoving face. Hermione had never felt so alone. She had thought her heart would break when Harry had died, but that had been nothing compared the mind-numbing coldness that permeated her being.  
  
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. After seeing how happy they would be, she couldn't fathom a future without Severus Snape. She loved him with a deep love, one that transcended time and space. She needed him to live; she needed him to love her.  
  
'Please, don't die,' she sobbed quietly. 'I'll do anything, just don't die. You saved us in that room. I wouldn't have drunk the potion if he hadn't hurt you. Oh, god, don't leave me.'  
  
She leant closer.  
  
'You wanted to know where I was. I was in the future, with myself and you. We're going to be married, Severus, and we'll be so happy. I've seen our children. You can't not give us that future. I need you.'  
  
She lowered her head onto his still hand, her tears overwhelming her.  
  
'I love you.'  
  
From the doorway, Dumbledore smiled sadly. For the first time in years, Snape had the chance to bring happiness into his life, and he couldn't do anything. The old wizard sighed softly, and left Hermione to her grief. This was something she would have to do alone. 


	21. Second Chances

I read over this recently, and decided that Serpentina is right, the love story develops far too quickly. So, here is the revised ending, and I warn you, I've written at least three more chapters.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Hermione waited patiently in Dumbledore's office. She had been summoned to meet him, only for the Headmaster to be called away. He had said to wait for him, and so she had, for over an hour. She found her thoughts returning to Snape. Dumbledore hadn't mentioned him, so she assumed he was still unconscious. She would have to visit him while she was here. Hearing voices outside the door, she turned to see a very welcome figure step into the room.  
  
McGonagall swept into the room, pulling the startled girl into her arms. Hermione hugged the professor back, feeling deep relief spread through her that she had not lost her mentor. She felt a brief sharp pang as she realised that despite her best efforts, she had changed the future. Ron and McGonagall had survived Voldemort's attack, when before they had both been killed. What else had she changed? Had she jeopardised her future with the Potions Master?  
  
'I am so very happy to see you well and safe, Hermione,' McGonagall sobbed, pulling a face as she realised she was crying. 'Look at me, it's ridiculous, isn't it?'  
  
Hermione laughed with her, caught up in her joy at seeing the older woman alive. Dumbledore watched them from the door, reluctant to intrude on what was obviously a special moment for the two women. Minerva had always had a soft spot for Hermione, and she had been distraught when the girl had been brought to the Hospital Wing after the battle. None of the professors had even known she was in the castle.  
  
He wandered into the room, sitting at his desk and playing with Fawkes as his wife composed herself, drawing Hermione down to sit beside her.  
  
'I understand you had something you wished to ask me, Hermione?' he said softly, watching as the smile faded from Hermione's face.  
  
She swallowed uneasily, unsure if the Headmaster would grant her unusual request, indeed if he would even entertain the idea.. Concerned, McGonagall squeezed her hand, wanting to give her support if she needed it.  
  
'Yes, Headmaster -'  
  
'Albus,' he interrupted with a smile. 'I think we've all seen enough these past few weeks to be able to use first names.'  
  
Hermione smiled shyly, nodding in agreement.  
  
'Well, then, Albus, I was going to ask if you would modify my memory.'  
  
He frowned, nodding slowly as if he understood her reasons.  
  
'Why, my dear?' McGonagall asked in surprise, ignoring the warning look she received from her husband.  
  
Hermione sighed.  
  
'I don't want people knowing about my . . . relationship . . . with Voldemort,' she explained. 'I don't want everyone to know that I killed my own father. I'd rather the whole thing would just go away. Tom Riddle was my father, and Voldemort used him to destroy thousands of lives. People just wouldn't understand that they were two separate people.'  
  
Dumbledore gazed into her eyes, the twinkling blue orbs seeing past her obvious reasoning.  
  
'What else, Hermione?' he asked gently.  
  
'When I went into the future, my older self couldn't remember what she did to Voldemort, only that it was her. She couldn't help me work it out, and I don't want to change any more of the future than I have already.'  
  
The Headmaster nodded, raising a hand to cut off McGonagall's protests.  
  
'Very well, Hermione,' he said, pleased to see that his answer brought a relieved smile to her pale face. 'But you understand that to selectively modify someone's memory requires a potion?'  
  
Hermione froze. Unbidden, images of Snape rose in her mind's eye. Him playing with their children, trying to protect her from Voldemort, lying pale and still in a hospital bed. Would his knowledge be required to brew this potion? She blinked, shaking herself mentally.  
  
'No, I wasn't aware of that, Albus.'  
  
He nodded, leaning back in his chair.  
  
'Well, it just so happens that I have a Potions Master up my sleeve, so to speak.'  
  
Seeing Hermione's face light up, Dumbledore congratulated himself on guessing correctly. She loved Snape as much as he loved her, and hopefully this would bring them together.  
  
'Before you ask, yes, he is alive and well, if a little weak,' he told her, watching as a myriad of emotions flicked across her face. 'Still, his temper is just as glorious as before, so no doubt he'll be up and terrorising students again by the beginning of the term.'  
  
McGonagall looked from Hermione to Dumbledore and back as a secretive smile spread across the girl's face. It was odd that she should be so pleased to hear of the Potions Master's recovery when only a few weeks before she had confessed to absolutely loathing the man. But then, she had just come out of her Potions exam, and Snape was never in the best of moods when forced to examine anyone, least of all a Muggle-born witch who knew almost as much as he did. Still, it was odd. McGonagall knew Hermione was a very forgiving girl, but this was almost impossible.  
  
'May I see him?' Hermione was asking, barely able to contain her excitement.  
  
Smiling at her infectious display of good humour, Dumbledore nodded.  
  
'Of course, Hermione. You will be required to work with him to brew the potion, since only you know what it is you want to forget.'  
  
Suddenly Hermione's stomach began to churn, tightening into a knot of nerves that seemed to come from nowhere. She forced herself to relax, thinking of the evening's she had spent talking with her older self. For some reason, just the image of herself in the future poring over a pile of essays and absently rubbing her pregnant belly was enough to calm her.  
  
'I daresay Poppy is fussing over him at the moment, but if you would care to stay for dinner, I'm sure he can be prevailed upon to join us,' the Headmaster continued, smiling at the thought of Snape's reaction to the news that Hermione was here, and asking for him.  
  
Hermione smiled, grateful for the invitation.  
  
'I would love to stay, Albus, if you'll have me.'  
  
'Nonsense, girl, he wouldn't have asked if you weren't more than welcome,' McGonagall said cheerily, wrapping her arms about Hermione again, as if she couldn't quite believe they were all still alive.  
  
'And of course, you'll have to tell us about your plans for the future,' Dumbledore added, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously.  
  
Hermione grinned suddenly, wondering just how much the old wizard knew of her trip to the future. She couldn't deny that she was quite happy for him to continue match-making, knowing that he was the only person Snape would take advice from. With Dumbledore on her side, she could hardly fail to snare the elusive Potions Master. Could she?  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape stood in his workroom, pointedly ignoring the knocking on his door. He was going over his inventory, making various lists of what needed to be replaced, refilled, and ordered. However, he wasn't getting very far. His thoughts kept wandering back to a brave young Gryffindor and the risk she had taken to rid the world of her own flesh and blood.  
  
Hermione. Now, when he thought of her, the image of her cradled safely against him as he carried her away from her father had been replaced with her standing before Voldemort, fully prepared to kill herself in an attempt to save so many others. Her gamble had paid off. Snape finally understood why she had been Sorted into Gryffindor, instead of Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. No other House member could have lived through what she had and come out of it fighting.  
  
It seemed to him that every waking moment he was looking for ways to move his mind away from her. If he stopped working, even for a moment, his mind wandered to her lovely face, the haunting sadness in her eyes that somehow made her even more desirable, the softness of her chestnut curls.  
  
He shook his head slightly, trying to draw his attention back to the task at hand. During his long recuperation from the effects of the multiple curses cast on his already weakened body, he had dreamt that she was sitting beside him, begging him to live, not to leave her. It had been so clear, so real, that he had almost let himself believe it. He would have, had it not been for the rest of what she had told him. That she had seen them, together, in the future, that she loved him. Such things he could only put down to his longing for precisely what she seemed to have described to him.  
  
He did not deserve such happiness, he did not deserve her. Rather than join her father, she had risked her life to destroy him. What had he done to match that? He was a known Death-Eater, saved from Azkaban only by Dumbledore's insistence of his spying activities. She probably hated him for the way he had treated her during her time at Hogwarts. He suppressed a groan as the memory of her Potions final floated to the surface.  
  
She'd completed the invisibility potion in spectacular time, with no mistakes, braving his stony countenance to test it herself. Disgruntled, he'd spitefully refused to provide the antidote, and she'd calmly made it herself, despite the anger he could sense brewing beneath the surface. When nothing untoward happened after she'd drunk the antidote, he'd spat a nasty comment at her visibly pale face, knowing that it would hurt her. He remembered how carefully she'd shut the door, obviously determined not to slam it, and exactly how furious McGonagall had been with him for making her complete two potions. Dumbledore had seemed quite amused by the whole thing, making Snape wonder just how long the old wizard had known about his feelings for her.  
  
He wouldn't blame Hermione if she hated him, yet she had always treated him with the utmost respect. When she'd reappeared in her chamber, she had not flinched away as he moved towards her. He had fancied that he detected warmth in the gaze she levelled at him, and true fear when she realised that Voldemort intended to kill him. It was rubbish, a silly notion that held no basis in the truth at all. He was deluding himself. The best thing to do would be to harden his heart and get on with things.  
  
A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he swore loudly.  
  
'I'm terribly sorry, Severus, but you appeared to have gone a little deaf,' Dumbledore said cheerfully. 'I've been knocking on your door for the last fifteen minutes.'  
  
Snape scowled at him.  
  
'There was nothing preventing you from barging in the way you always do,' he snapped, silently cursing himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. He retrieved the quill that had slipped from his fingers and placed it next to the ink pot.  
  
'Was there something, or are you just content to give me a heart attack today?' he asked acidly.  
  
Dumbledore smiled vaguely, looking around the dungeon with distaste.  
  
'You really should open the drapes more often, Severus, this room is positively dingy,' he said, deliberately not answering the question. 'With a bit more colour in this place, maybe the students would enjoy Potions more.'  
  
'They're not here to enjoy Potions, they're here to learn it,' Snape muttered, knowing better than to voice his opinion out loud. He raised his voice. 'Is there a point to your visit, apart from commenting on the decor?'  
  
Dumbledore smiled, hearing his friend's formidable temper simmering under his polite words. Severus Snape was making a faster recovery than he'd thought.  
  
'Hmm?' he said absently. 'Oh yes, I was wondering if you were going to join us for dinner this evening. We have a guest who is in need of your expertise, and is hoping to speak to you.'  
  
Snape frowned.  
  
'What do they need?'  
  
'The Oblivate potion, what's it called?' Dumbledore fumbled for the name, and gave up, seeing that Snape understood. 'There are certain things this person does not wish to remember.'  
  
'I am fully aware of what the Obliviscor does, Albus,' Snape said testily. 'Who is in need of it?'  
  
Dumbledore quickly suppressed an amused smile.  
  
'Hermione Granger,' he said, watching as Snape stiffened, what little colour there was draining from his face.  
  
'Miss Granger is here?' he asked quietly, all trace of his bad humour gone.  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
'She requested that I Oblivate her,' he explained, 'but the potion is far more powerful than the spell, and her memories are doubly painful. I thought that you might be kind enough to help her through the brewing.'  
  
Snape took a deep breath, urging his hammering heart to calm itself. Hermione was here, and she needed him to help her. He should have realised that she would not want to face what she had done, but had never dreamed that she would seek Dumbledore's help for it. The Headmaster was watching him closely.  
  
'Of course, if you do not wish to assist her, I can always ask Poppy to help her,' he suggested, for once unable to read the younger man's reaction.  
  
'No,' Snape said quickly. 'The Obliviscor is difficult enough for a Master. Poppy has her hands full with the injured in the Hospital Wing. I will assist Miss Granger in whatever she needs done.'  
  
Dumbledore nodded, pleased that Snape had made, in his opinion, the right decision.  
  
'So you will join us for dinner? In my office, seven o'clock?'  
  
Snape sighed, recognising the signs that he had been manipulated into doing what Dumbledore wanted yet again.  
  
'Yes, Albus, I will join you for dinner,' he said wearily.  
  
As the older wizard left, smiling to himself, Snape closed his eyes, willing himself to be strong enough for this encounter. An image of Hermione's smiling face appeared behind his closed eyelids. Involuntarily, he smiled softly, a tender expression at odds with his stern countenance. Finally, he had a little time to change her opinion of him, for better or worse. 


	22. Pain

Hermione drew in a deep breath, trying in vain to calm herself as the steps carried her upwards to Dumbledore's office. She'd spoken with Molly Weasley, making sure she knew that she would be late back that evening and not to worry. She wiped her sweaty palms on the skirts of her robe, furiously berating herself for being so nervous.  
  
Stepping to the door, she knocked quietly and entered, forcing herself to greet Dumbledore with a smile. Every part of her body was screaming at her to look at Snape, who seemed to have frozen mid-conversation at her entrance. Remus Lupin pinched him quickly, ignoring the furious scowl he got for his efforts.  
  
'Hermione, it's wonderful to see you,' he said, moving away from the fuming Potions Master and embracing his young friend. 'How are you?'  
  
'I'm very well, thank you, Professor,' Hermione told him quietly, acutely aware that Snape was standing at his back, watching her with an unreadable expression.  
  
Lupin waved a finger under her nose.  
  
'My name is Remus, Hermione, I'm not your professor any longer.'  
  
Before she could reply, Hermione was spun around and pulled into a tight hug. Pulling back, she grinned up at Sirius Black, who seemed overjoyed to see her. He hugged her again.  
  
'Why didn't you tell me where you went?' he asked bluntly, unashamed of his concern for her.  
  
'We didn't think it was a good idea for everyone to know, Sirius,' Dumbledore told him, skilfully pulling the Animagus away from her.  
  
'We? You mean, you knew?'  
  
Rhys Mulqueen winked at Hermione, grinning at the shocked expression on her face. In all the time she had known the Welsh professor, she'd never once seen her smile. She pulled Lupin off to one side, engaging him quickly in animated conversation. Hermione turned, and found herself face to face with Severus Snape.  
  
'Good evening, Miss Granger,' he said softly, cursing himself for not having the courage to call her by name.  
  
Hermione flushed slightly, smiling up at him.  
  
'And to you, Professor,' she replied. 'May I say how glad I am that you are recovering so well?'  
  
Snape inclined his head to her, hating the sound of her voice calling him 'professor' again. It was bad enough when she was his student.  
  
'Thank you. But please, call me Severus. You sound like a first-year.'  
  
Great, brilliant, he thought bitterly. The first time you see her and you compare her to a knock-kneed eleven-year-old.  
  
However, far from being insulted, Hermione laughed, remembering something similar said to her by his future self. Emboldened by his not-so-cold reception, she stepped closer.  
  
'Very well. But only if you will call me Hermione. Miss Granger reminds me too much of Double Potions on a Friday.'  
  
Snape narrowed his eyes, aware that he was being teased and not quite believing it. Seeing nothing but sincerity in her face, he allowed his lips to twitch into a smile, his expression warmed by a surge of love for her that he was unable to suppress entirely.  
  
Across the room, Sirius was spluttering at Dumbledore.  
  
'You mean you're actually trying to match-make Hermione with Snape? Are you out of your mind?'  
  
McGonagall chuckled at the mildly affronted look on Dumbledore's face.  
  
'Not at all, Sirius, I assure you. If you speak with Hermione, you have only to mention Severus and her face lights up. And he is just as smitten, if not more so.'  
  
Sirius snorted derisively.  
  
'The day he falls in love, I'll walk Diagon Alley in a dress,' he warned.  
  
Dumbledore grinned.  
  
'This I have to see,' he said, laughing. 'Is Tuesday good for you?'  
  
McGonagall couldn't suppress her laughter on seeing the astonished expression on Sirius' face. Rhys slipped over to them, having sent Remus to referee the conversation in the corner.  
  
'You may not believe this, but he actually smiled at her,' she said excitedly,' in public! And it doesn't look as though either of them are going to attack any time soon.'  
  
Sirius growled.  
  
'If he so much as lays a finger on her -'  
  
'We'll leave Hermione to deal with it,' Dumbledore finished, his smile becoming a frown for the irate Animagus. 'End of story, Sirius.'  
  
Remus leant on the wall, listening to the conversation with interest. Hermione had asked Snape about the Obliviscor and he had begun explaining the process to her.  
  
'So, the potion on it's own won't work?' she asked, a small frown on her forehead.  
  
Snape shook his head, caught up in the discussion.  
  
'No, it would wipe your entire memory,' he said. 'We'll use the Memorina Charm so that you can choose which memories to remove yourself.'  
  
'How will I know?'  
  
Snape looked thoughtful for a moment, and Remus watched as Hermione seemed to melt under his intelligent gaze. The werewolf shook his head in disbelief. She really had fallen hard. Even he, who was wont to see the good in everyone, had problems when it came to Snape.  
  
'We'll use a Pensieve,' Snape said suddenly, as the pieces fell into place. 'You can select the memories you want to forget as they appear on the surface.'  
  
Hermione looked troubled.  
  
'Won't that mean whoever's with me will see them, though?'  
  
'Not if you don't want them to. I assure you, whoever you ask will be told to mind their own business.'  
  
Remus was as surprised by Snape's suddenly polite behaviour as he was by Hermione's reaction to it. He'd never known Snape speak to anyone as an equal, or explain anything without even a hint of impatience.  
  
Hermione was enjoying every minute of this. She'd never spoken with Snape on a par before, and his intellect was dizzying. She could see why he was a Potions Master, his knowledge of the potion in question was definitely in depth. As he spoke, she could see the interest, the passion for the subject, in his eyes and the way he explained everything. He didn't seem to mind that she had stepped closer. Her body was aching for him to wrap an arm about her shoulders, to kiss her, but she refused to make the first move.  
  
Snape, on the other hand, was panicking quietly. He'd been so relieved when Hermione had asked about the potion, that he had immediately launched into a full explanation of its effects and what he would need to do for it to work with her. Still, she seemed genuinely interested, her thirst for knowledge undented by her recent experiences. He was thrilled to the core when she moved closer, obviously more interested in the potion than him, but close enough for him to smell her hair, feel the warmth from her body. He realised the path his thoughts were taking, forcing them back onto safer ground. It wouldn't do to speak to her, all the while imagining what it would be like to kiss her senseless.  
  
Their conversation continued through dinner, both going over every tiny detail of the process she wished to put herself through. It was decided that Snape would procure the ingredients, and Hermione would return to Hogwarts in a few day's time to begin the brewing. When she left, Snape found himself staring at the empty fireplace for an hour or more, feeling inordinately pleased with himself.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape poured the potion into a beaker to cool, glancing at Hermione's nervous expression.  
  
'You are sure you wish me to stay, Hermione? I can fetch Minerva or Poppy, if you would prefer them,' he said, not wanting to be the cause of any awkwardness she might feel.  
  
Over the past few days, he had seen Hermione's confidence with him grow to the point where she was willing to speak to him as an equal. She seemed strangely comfortable with him, a state that had rubbed off. He'd overseen her brewing of the Obliviscor, unable to fault her methods. She would make a fine Potions Mistress. His abrasive nature had subsided in her company, and Hermione had noticed that she was working alongside the Snape she had seen in the future.  
  
As she'd worked, Hermione had confided to him her hopes for the future. She had applied to Avalon University, an institution known for its high quality Potions instruction. Snape knew this, because that was where he had gained his own Master's degree. The problem Hermione faced was that she had sat the exam, and passed with full marks. The lecturers had consulted about this, since it meant that she knew most of what they could teach her, and had decided the best way for her to attain her Mistress degree would be to take a year's apprenticeship with a known Potions Master. What Hermione hadn't told him was that his name had been put forward to her.  
  
She sighed, calming her irrational fears. Snape was a Master, he knew what he was doing.  
  
'No, Severus, I wouldn't have asked you to do this with me unless I meant for you to be here.'  
  
He frowned, deciding to take the jump with a question that had been bothering him for a few days.  
  
'If you don't mind my asking, Hermione, why did you choose me? I've not been the most supportive of influences in your life.'  
  
She smiled at his derogatory tone. Because I love you, you idiot, she thought uncharitably.  
  
'Because,' she began, then paused, unsure of how he would take what she had to say. 'Of all the people I know, you are the one least likely to judge me.'  
  
He nodded slowly.  
  
'Because of my past,' he said darkly.  
  
Seeing that she had soured his mood, Hermione hastened to put her words right.  
  
'I didn't mean it like that,' she said, wishing she could take back the words. 'I just meant that I trust you to help me through this without thinking any worse of me.'  
  
Touched that she trusted him, Snape stared at her, suddenly aware that her hand was pressed against his arm in her earnest attempt to smooth his rising temper. He glanced down at it, feeling a wave of emotion threaten to overwhelm him. Hermione slowly tightened her grip, never taking her eyes from his face.  
  
'Please stay, Severus. I can't do this without you.'  
  
To herself, she sounded pathetic, simpering. But as Snape gazed down into her eyes, he felt the beginnings of hope stir in his soul. She needed him, and he would not let her down. He had forced himself to let his guard down over the last few days, and had been rewarded with her confidences. Now, he would stay with her for as long as she wanted him to, even if it were only a few hours longer.  
  
'I'll stay,' he promised, covering her hand with his. 'Are you ready?'  
  
She nodded, taking a deep breath.  
  
'As I'll ever be.'  
  
She lifted the beaker to her lips, the ice blue liquid slipping down her throat. As she swallowed the potion, she heard Snape speak the incantation, his deep voice intoning the words with confident ease.  
  
'Memorina Induce Face (make the induction of little memory - reduce memory).'  
  
White light shot from his wand, striking her heart as she swallowed the last of the liquid. The beaker clattered to the floor as Hermione's knees buckled under the sudden onslaught of emotion that overwhelmed her - fear, anger, sorrow, pain.  
  
She vaguely felt Snape's arms about her as he helped her onto a stool. Her wand was placed in her hand, and he gently leant her over the Pensieve they had set on the worktop. Hermione could hardly see through the tears that formed in her eyes, but she blinked them away. As the liquid stirred, images forming on the surface, she felt Snape leave her side, moving away to give her privacy.  
  
She saw, reflected in the bowl, Harry's face as he smiled down at her. A faint smile was echoed on her face as she dismissed it, not wishing to lose the memory of his love. The dreams came next, the awful truth that had been broken so brutally to her. Hermione, ever practical, understood that she could easily lose the essence of herself if she deleted every bad experience she had ever had. She knew what she needed to forget, and hurried through her sub-conscious in search of it.  
  
The Tower. Hermione saw again the murders of the innocent Muggles, the rape of the women. She sobbed again, feeling the fear and anger of that night seep through her, the feeling of helplessness. Forcing herself to dwell on that terrible experience, she raised her wand and uttered the single word that would banish it from her mind.  
  
'Ite (go).'  
  
The liquid rippled violently as the image was torn from its surface, disappearing forever from her memory.  
  
Harry's death. Hermione concentrated, feeling her way through the grief and sorrow to the actual moment his life was taken from him. The grieving had matured her, given her the strength to face her father, but she couldn't bear dreaming each night of the sight of his body as it hit the floor, lifeless. Again, she raised her wand, tears streaming down her face.  
  
And so it went on. Every scrap of information as to how she had killed her father was sent away with a single word. Everything that had transpired in the little chamber, dismissed, as she felt the horror and pain of what she had done once again wash over her. Her sides ached from crying, her voice hoarse. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she banished her deed from her mind.  
  
Finally, it was finished. Hermione turned away from the Pensieve, still sobbing, and fell from stool. Snape leapt forward, catching her as she stumbled onto her knees. He knelt beside her, shocked at the intensity of emotion she felt, and the way his heart ached with each ragged sob that shook her body. She clutched at him, burying her face in his shoulder. Unable to move away, he held her, stroking her hair and whispering comfort to her.  
  
After what seemed hours, she slowly quieted, emitting the occasional sniffle as she laid her head on his shoulder. Exhausted from her emotional ordeal, Hermione drifted to sleep, safe in the circle of Snape's arms. 


	23. Hope

Hermione sighed in her sleep, a peaceful smile on her lips. Molly Weasley nodded to herself, quietly shutting the door, and walking down to the kitchen. Ron looked up as she entered, his honest face creased in concern for his friend.  
  
'How is she?'  
  
His mother leant against the wall, looking astounded.  
  
'Whatever that Snape did, it worked a treat,' she told him. 'She's sleeping peacefully, and with a smile on her face. No more nightmares.'  
  
Ron looked relieved.  
  
'Good. She deserves a good sleep after all this.'  
  
'Who does?' asked Ginny, stepping out of the fireplace with Neville in tow.  
  
Since the Yule Ball, Ginny had been subtly working on Neville's affections, and had finally succeeded in getting him to ask her out. They were now a couple, a state that had improved Neville's confidence no end. Ron grinned at his little sister.  
  
'Hermione,' he told her. 'Hallo, Neville.'  
  
Neville grinned back at Ron, sitting down beside Ginny.  
  
'Did Professor Snape's potion work?' he asked.  
  
Ron nodded, laughing as Ginny snorted into her tea. She'd bet the twins that it wouldn't, and now owed them each ten Galleons.  
  
'I told you not to doubt him, Ginny,' Neville told her, laughing as she turned furious eyes on him.  
  
Despite all outward appearances, Neville actually got on quite well with Snape, having pushed himself to the limit to get good grades in his OWLs and NEWTs. He respected the Potions Master, and in return, Snape had written a glowing reference for him when he'd applied to Myrddin's (Merlin's) College in Wales. Neville had been accepted and was certain that it was all down to Snape.  
  
'You should have known better, Gin,' Ron added, ducking as she flung a fist in his direction. 'If Hermione trusted him, I sure as hell wasn't going to argue.'  
  
'Language, Ron,' she warned, her brown eyes flashing dangerously.  
  
She swung for him again, missing and getting Neville instead, as her father walked in.  
  
'What's going on here, then?' he asked cheerily. 'Hallo, Neville.'  
  
'Hallo, Mr Weasley,' Neville said, grinning as he rubbed his ear.  
  
Ron gave a yell and fell backwards off his chair, Ginny on top of him as they both struggled to land blows on one another. Arthur ignored them, stepping over the pair to kiss his wife.  
  
'Afternoon, dear. How's Hermione?'  
  
Molly smiled fondly, absently flicking water from the sink over her two youngest. Ron and Ginny jumped as the tepid water hit them, yelping as they crashed sideways into the floor again.  
  
'She's fine,' Molly told her husband. 'She's been asleep all day. Why do you ask? Arthur?'  
  
Arthur was watching his children struggle with one another, with Neville as an amused bystander. He jumped as his wife tapped him with her wand.  
  
'Hmm? Oh, Dumbledore came by this morning to ask how she was,' he said. 'He's still trying to get Fudge to recognise that You-Know-Who is really gone.'  
  
'Well, Fudge never believed him that the Dark Lord was back, let alone ready for action,' Molly said cruelly. 'All those attacks and the stupid man never did anything.'  
  
She sighed, blinking back tears as she thought of her son, Bill, who had been killed by Death-Eaters a few years before. Arthur wrapped an arm about her shoulders.  
  
'Well, it's all over now, love,' he assured her. 'Dumbledore's got everything in hand.'  
  
Molly pulled herself together.  
  
'Why doesn't that surprise me?' she said with an amused smile.  
  
Finally fed up of the fighting in her kitchen, she levitated a saucepan of cold water over Ron and Ginny. They stopped fighting immediately, both looking up at it fearfully. Molly made sure she had their full attention, then tipped it over them. Amid the shrieks of shock, Neville roared with laughter, turning and running out into the garden at the sight of two Weasley glares aimed in his direction.  
  
As Molly cleared up the mess she'd made, Hermione wandered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She smiled at Arthur, who nodded cheerfully and exclaimed over her Muggle jeans and t-shirt, making her laugh. He'd never really got over his fascination with all things Muggle. Molly shooed him away.  
  
'How are you feeling, Hermione, love?'  
  
'Fine, really rested,' Hermione told her, scratching her head. 'Any chance of some coffee?'  
  
'Of course,' Molly said. 'You know where everything is, just make yourself at home.'  
  
With a grateful grin, Hermione produced her wand and rummaged about for a mug.  
  
'I heard Neville laughing, so is it safe to assume they're all outside?' she asked, listening to the shouts coming from the garden.  
  
'All but two,' Molly said, glancing up at the family clock. As far as Hermione could tell, only one hand was pointing to 'travelling', the others all at 'home'.  
  
'Charlie's coming home today, and he's bringing his girlfriend,' she explained, seeing the confusion on Hermione's face. 'And Percy should be tearing himself away from work to come and see his old mother. He's only in his bedroom, for Pete's sake.'  
  
Hermione laughed.  
  
'You're not old, Molly,' she protested, sipping from her mug.  
  
'Oooh, I am,' Molly said, glad to hear her laugh. She bent herself over and hobbled about the kitchen, drawing more laughter from the girl.  
  
'Mum, what are you doing?'  
  
Molly straightened up instantly on hearing the voice, and turned to greet her son as he stepped out of the fire place. Charlie grinned down at Hermione, ruffling her hair because he knew she hated it.  
  
'Hallo, Herm. Where's Ron?'  
  
She shrugged.  
  
'Follow the shouting,' she suggested, and Charlie laughed.  
  
Just then, the fireplace spat out another figure, a young woman with golden hair. She smiled shyly at Molly and Hermione. Molly elbowed her son out of the way.  
  
'You must be Laura, I'm Molly, Charlie's mum, 'she said, planting a kiss on Laura's cheek. 'That's Arthur, my husband -'  
  
The twins suddenly catapulted through the kitchen, laughing loudly, chased by Percy, who was wearing a badge that had 'Head of Twerps International' emblazoned on it. Hermione laughed, unable to stop herself as Molly glared after them.  
  
'The twins were Fred and George, followed closely by Percy,' she explained to the bemused Laura. She held out her hand. 'I'm Hermione, don't panic, I'm not related. Ron's in the garden with Ginny and Neville, who is also not related.'  
  
Laura gave her a relieved grin, obviously unprepared to meet so many of one family. Charlie kissed her forehead, smiling at her nerves. Slightly jealous, Hermione turned back to her coffee, fighting the feeling that she should be doing that with Snape.  
  
Two hours later, Charlie and Neville were engaged in a lively discussion about dragons and herbs; for some bizarre reason, Arthur was hanging upside down from one of the trees as the twins tried to get him down; Percy was closeted in his room trying to finish a report on the dangers of trying to fly on a Muggle Hoover; and Ron was playing wizard chess with Ginny. Hermione was in the kitchen with Laura, helping Molly make dinner.  
  
'So, Laura, how did you meet Charlie?' Molly said, stirring furiously.  
  
'Charlie didn't tell you?'  
  
'Oh, of course he did, but he's a man. I want the details,' she grinned at Laura's startled expression.  
  
The dragon-keeper exchanged a glance with Hermione, who hid a smile and went back to the potatoes she was peeling. From the look on her face, Hermione guessed that Charlie hadn't told Laura anything about his family, leaving her to cope on her own. She leant over.  
  
'She's like this all the time,' she murmured. 'Just tell her the story, and she'll leave you alone for a bit.'  
  
'How long?' Laura whispered back, revealing the fact that her own sense of humour wasn't that different from the Weasleys'.  
  
'About five minutes,' Hermione muttered, giggling under the frown that Molly aimed in her direction. Laura smothered her own laugh and obliged the older woman with her story.  
  
'Now, all Charlie said was that you offered to help him with some dragon,' Molly said. 'It's so much more satisfying having details.'  
  
Hermione choked on her laughter. She hadn't laughed so much for weeks.  
  
'How's Norbert?' she asked, remembering the dragon that she, Ron and Harry had smuggled out of Hogwarts to Charlie during their first year. It turned out that he was a girl, for a start.  
  
'She's fine,' Laura told her, poking the chicken with her wand as if to make sure it was dead. 'She misses Hagrid something chronic, though.'  
  
She then let out a small shriek as her wand squeaked and turned into a rubber frog. Molly took one look, and drew in a deep breath.  
  
'FRED! GEORGE! GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!'  
  
The twins appeared at the window. Molly waved the frog at them.  
  
'What is this?'  
  
'It's a frog, mum,' one of the boys answered.  
  
'I know it's a frog,' she told him. 'Why did Laura's wand turn into it, is what I would like to know.'  
  
Laura, having recovered from her shock, began to laugh quietly, joined by Hermione, as they watched the twins wriggle out of any punishment for planting a fake wand, that they were supposed to have destroyed years ago, in the kitchen. Eventually, they produced Laura's wand, proving it really was hers before presenting it to her with a flourish. She tried valiantly to hide her smile, exchanging a look with Hermione. The younger girl patted her hand.  
  
'You're going to fit in just fine,' she assured her, laughing.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape rubbed his eyes, tired from a day of cataloguing his new supplies. It had taken twice as long as usual, since every time he paused in his task, he was caught up again in the memory of Hermione cradled against him, sobbing helplessly into his shoulder. She'd been so brave to take the step he'd offered her, reliving such dreadful experiences, and then to turn to him for comfort . . . Snape could hardly believe it.  
  
Every time he closed his eyes, he was confronted with an image of her sobbing over the Pensieve, steadfastly continuing onwards in her task. If he concentrated, he could hear her cries as she relived the terror of her ordeal. He could feel her pressed trustingly into his body, holding him close for comfort.  
  
Snarling at his own weakness, he shook himself, locking the door to his supply cupboard and setting the wards, out of habit. It wasn't as if there were any students around to try and break in, not for another two weeks at least. A knock on his door echoed through the empty dungeon.  
  
'Come,' he called, not inclined to open the door himself.  
  
The Headmaster shuffled inside, looking highly amused at something or other. He smiled at Snape, ignoring the frosty reception.  
  
'Good evening, Severus,' Dumbledore said airily, glancing about the dungeon. 'Still no sunlight, I see.'  
  
Snape frowned, he wasn't in the mood for this.  
  
'What do you want, Albus?' he snapped, rubbing his temples.  
  
Dumbledore took one look at him and decided not to wind him up any further.  
  
'I received a letter from Avalon Uni this morning,' he told the Potions Master, who looked decidedly uninterested, 'concerning Hermione Granger.'  
  
Snape's headache abruptly vanished at her name. What would the university be doing writing to Dumbledore? Hermione was supposed to find her own apprenticeship, at least, that was the impression she'd given him.  
  
'I am told that there is no point in Hermione taking the three-year course since she knows pretty much all of the syllabus already,' Dumbledore continued, seemingly oblivious to Snape's sudden revival. 'They have suggested that she attempt to find a Master to undertake an apprenticeship for a year.'  
  
'I am aware of that,' Snape said smoothly. 'Hermione told me as much herself. What has this to do with Hogwarts?'  
  
Dumbledore suppressed his amusement at his friend's carefully disinterested drawl.  
  
'Well, you see, knowing that she had applied there, I wrote to them myself asking that they make her application as easy as possible since she's been through quite a tough few weeks.'  
  
Snape felt his heart soften towards the Headmaster, for being so thoughtful for his Hermione. Then, he berated himself silently. She wasn't his Hermione at all.  
  
'They've suggested that I find a Master to offer the apprenticeship to her,' Dumbledore finished. 'They quite clearly meant you, Severus.'  
  
Snape felt his heart slam within his chest. An entire year in Hermione's company, an entire year to win her over. It was more than he could have hoped for. Not wanting Dumbledore to think him too eager, he thought it over for a while.  
  
'What is your opinion, Albus?'  
  
'I feel that Hermione has more to benefit from learning in a familiar environment than an unfamiliar one. She is aware of your . . . temperament, and has been known to weather it without injury. I would heartily recommend it. That is, if you are prepared to give a year of your time to her.'  
  
Oh, Albus, you old fool, Snape thought, I would willingly give up my lifetime to her, and you know it.  
  
'I agree,' he said. 'I will apprentice Hermione.'  
  
Dumbledore smiled triumphantly, shaking his hand with enthusiasm.  
  
'Will you tell her, or shall I?' he asked.  
  
Snape scowled at him.  
  
'I think I can be trusted to offer my own mastership by myself, Albus,' he snarled, ignoring the amused grin that spread across the older wizard's face.  
  
Dumbledore rose, pleased with his evening's work, and left Snape to his thoughts. At least he would have brought them together, he thought. From then on, they're on their own. 


	24. A New Beginning

Hermione yawned lazily, stretching in her bed under the warm summer sunshine. She grinned across the room at Ginny who, similarly lazy, gave her a smile before snuggling into her own covers. The peace was quickly evaporated, though.  
  
The door crashed open, and Ron pulled the covers off Hermione, shouting his good morning far too enthusiastically for her liking. She threw a pillow at him, accurate despite her half-closed eyes, and had the satisfaction of seeing him tumble sideways onto Ginny. Ginny pushed him off with an unintelligible grumble, and he made a resounding thump as he hit the floor.  
  
Undeterred, he picked himself up, and shook Hermione's shoulder, laughing at her disgruntled expression. She pushed his arm away, pressing her face into her remaining pillow.  
  
'Go 'way,' she complained indistinctly as he sat on the bed, bouncing her curled up figure off the mattress.  
  
'Come on, 'Mione,' he pleaded. 'It's eleven o'clock, for Pete's sake.'  
  
She rolled over, sticking her tongue out at him as he tried to catch her on the way past. He sighed.  
  
'Look, there's a reason for you to get up,' he told her, sensing her interest. 'He's about six foot eight, has black greasy hair, doesn't like the sunlight, and is sitting in the kitchen at this very minute!'  
  
Hermione sat bolt upright, her eyes wide.  
  
'Severus is here?' she asked breathlessly.  
  
Ron, amused by her sudden wakefulness, nodded, grinning. She pushed him out of the way, scrambling off the bed.  
  
'For heaven's sake, Ron, why didn't you tell me?'  
  
'I just did,' he protested.  
  
Hermione gave him a Look, turning away to rummage through a chest of drawers.  
  
'Go downstairs and tell him I'll be down as soon as I can,' she told him, ushering her friend out of the door. 'And don't make any jokes about me and mornings.'  
  
Ron looked affronted.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Please, Ron, I'm trying to make a good impression here.'  
  
Ron snorted.  
  
'If you wanted to make a good impression, you'd have been awake when he got here,' he muttered, then saw the look on her face. 'Alright, alright, I'm going.'  
  
Hermione pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, dragging a brush mercilessly through her tangled curls and shoving them up into a ponytail. She spared an envious glance for Ginny's mop of red hair peeking out from under the bedclothes, and left the room, walking down to the kitchen.  
  
Severus Snape was sitting at the kitchen table in his usual black ensemble, drinking tea and chatting comfortably with Molly and Charlie. He didn't seem at all disgruntled at having to wait for her to get up.  
  
Charlie looked up as Hermione shuffled in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.  
  
'And here she is,' he announced. 'Good morning sunshine!'  
  
Hermione made a face at him, accepting the cup of coffee Molly pushed into her hands with relief. Snape nodded to her as she sat at the table, still trying to clear the sleepy fog from her head.  
  
'Good morning, Hermione,' he said softly, clamping down on his mind, which was trying to tell him how adorable she looked having just got up. Ron, despite instructions to the contrary, had informed him that Hermione was not good with mornings, and that he had had to fight her to get her out of bed. Snape couldn't help thinking what it would be like to sleep beside Hermione and have to force her to wake up.  
  
She smiled at him, obviously aware of how sleepy she looked.  
  
'Morning.'  
  
He seemed in a fairly good mood, a state that brightened his countenance, though she doubted he knew it. If he did, he would have made the extra effort to look forbidding. Molly presented Hermione with toast, insisting that she ate it.  
  
'I don't care if Severus is here to see you, you can eat that while he talks, young lady,' she admonished when Hermione tried to protest.  
  
Charlie snorted into his tea, standing when he saw the glare his mother aimed at him.  
  
'I'll . . . I'll just go and help Ron,' he said, and hurried outside.  
  
Hermione looked confused.  
  
'I don't know what you said to him, Hermione, but after getting you up, Ron went straight outside and started de-gnoming the garden,' Molly said disbelievingly. 'I've never known him do that before.'  
  
Snape snorted, the closest he'd come to laughter in years.  
  
'It would appear that his remarks to me on returning from Hermione's side were not the best chosen,' he suggested, his suspicions confirmed as Hermione's eyes narrowed.  
  
'Why?' she asked. 'What did he say?'  
  
'Nothing of any significant interest,' he assured her. 'However, I am here to speak with you. Do you recall informing me of your application to Avalon, and the stipulations they stated?'  
  
Hermione nodded, gulping down toast under Molly's watchful eye. Snape swallowed a smile at the sight of her listening intently whilst eating as fast as she could. If she wasn't careful, she'd get hiccups.  
  
'I am here to offer you a year's apprenticeship with me, at Hogwarts,' he said bluntly.  
  
Hermione froze, mid-chew. Realising how ridiculous she looked, she quickly finished her mouthful.  
  
'Why?' she blurted out. 'May I ask?'  
  
Snape inclined his head to her. He should have known she wouldn't take his offer on faith. Still, he wasn't inclined to reveal Dumbledore's meddling on her behalf. He had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate it at all.  
  
'Because you are an exceptionally talented young woman, Hermione, and I feel I have a great deal I can give you. Academically, that is.'  
  
Hermione nodded, obviously stunned by his offer. A whole year with Snape, a whole year to bind him to her. It could work. And of course, she'd be working with the highest ranking Potions Master in Britain. She'd easily win her Potions Mistress degree, and could work on settling her private life at the same time.  
  
'I'd be honoured to accept an apprenticeship with you, Severus,' she said, sounding awe-struck. 'What would be involved?'  
  
Snape heaved a secret sigh of relief.  
  
'You would be required to work on several advanced potions with me,' he told her, 'and a research project of your own. Would I be right in thinking that you intend to teach after attaining your degree?'  
  
'Yes, that's what I'd like.'  
  
He nodded.  
  
'In which case, I would like you to take a few of my classes. Probably a couple in each year, to get a sense of the range of areas you would have to cover.'  
  
Hermione was overjoyed. She would have experience of teaching as well. This was looking more and more like a brilliant opportunity that she couldn't afford to miss.  
  
'When do we start?'  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape watched as the first Potions class of the year filed in silently. They were first-years, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and absolutely terrified of him already. As it should be really. He glanced to his left. Hermione was sitting quietly in the corner, smiling at the frightened students. He suppressed an amused smile. Once they'd had a taste of his teaching, Hermione would be an idol to these naive children.  
  
He launched into his first-years speech, ignoring the terror that intensified on their faces as he described the things he could teach them. His eyes swept over them, identifying the Neville Longbottoms and Hermione Grangers of this new year. Not many of either, he decided, relieved. Sneering at the front row, he selected one particularly scared looking girl and asked,  
  
'Miss Bawtree, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'  
  
She gazed up at him in mute shock and fear. He could see her shaking, and felt slightly ashamed of himself.  
  
'You don't know?' he asked brutally.  
  
She shook her head, stammering,  
  
'N-no, s-s-sir.'  
  
He levelled his gaze at her, his dark eyes unreadable, and watched as she squirmed under his scrutiny. Hermione watched this with interest, wondering why he did it to these children. The memory of his doing to her class was still painfully sharp in her mind. Snape stood abruptly and turned to her, gesturing for her to stand.  
  
'This is my apprentice, Miss Granger. She will be assisting me in lessons. Miss Bawtree, you will speak with her after the lesson is over to find the answer to my question. Is that quite clear?'  
  
The frightened little girl nodded hurriedly, glancing at Hermione. Hermione winked at her, grinning infectiously. Snape ignored the nervous smile that appeared in response on the girl's face, and launched into the lesson, fully aware that the entire class were suddenly very attached to Hermione.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape glanced up as the final class of the day scrambled to get as far away from him as possible. Ginny Weasley had stopped to speak with Hermione, something he was glad of. At least she would have someone to go to, should he infuriate her too much. He was well aware that she did not agree with his teaching methods.  
  
Ginny looked her friend over.  
  
'No visible signs of damage,' she murmured, making Hermione laugh.  
  
'Stop it,' Hermione told her. 'He's really not that bad.'  
  
Ginny snorted, not unlike her brother.  
  
'I'll believe it when I see it,' she promised. 'I'd better run or Helen'll think I've got detention again. See ya!'  
  
Snape watched from lowered eyes as Hermione wandered about the classroom, instinctively tidying until he was prepared to give her an order.  
  
'You don't approve of my methods.'  
  
It wasn't a question. Hermione looked up, startled to find black eyes on her, glittering with unknown emotion. Snape sat perfectly still, and she knew he was trying to intimidate her, the way he had the students before. Instead of being cowed, however, she marched right up to his desk, forcing him to look up at her.  
  
'No, Professor, I don't,' she told him. 'I don't see the need to intimidate and frighten children.'  
  
'Really? Tell me something, Hermione. Do you recall an incident in your sixth year, involving an Inflammatus potion?'  
  
Hermione blushed suddenly, looking down at her hands as she remembered the catastrophe in acute detail. Neville had melted the bottom out of his cauldron, predictably enough, spilling his badly made potion all over the desk. Hermione had leapt up, dragging the hapless boy away from the spillage as Snape quickly cleared it away, his face like thunder, before it could destroy the desk and flagstones. Snape watched her quietly.  
  
'You all moved away from the cauldron as I recall, and let me deal with it, yes?'  
  
She nodded, knowing suddenly that she was out-thought.  
  
'Would you have done that if you were not so frightened of the fearful Potions Master?'  
  
'No, Professor.'  
  
Snape nodded himself.  
  
'No,' he repeated, 'you would have charged in and been severely injured yourselves. The way I teach, Hermione, ensures the very minimum of accidents. Much as my students would like to believe I enjoy it, I don't. I am this way because if I am not, there would be far less of them at the end of each year. Do you understand?' he said gently.  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
'Yes, Professor.'  
  
'Of course,' Snape added, 'fear of my wrath also induces the best Potions results in Europe, but a man can hardly complain about that, can he?'  
  
Hermione laughed at his smug expression. He smiled at her, safe in the knowledge that there were no students around to see it.  
  
'And my name is Severus, Hermione. Stop calling me Professor.'  
  
She grimaced and bit her lip.  
  
'Sorry.'  
  
Snape stood, stretching slightly, and made his way to his work room, gesturing for her to follow. Once there, he laid out a series of ingredients.  
  
'Make a potion,' was the instruction. 'Use all the ingredients.'  
  
Hermione stared at the tabletop, her quick mind already dredging through the encyclopaedia of knowledge she had stored up there. After a few moment's quiet thought, she moved forwards, ready to begin work.  
  
Snape watched her carefully, impressed by her logical methods. He could see his own influence on her as she selected implements and a cauldron, laying them out neatly. As always, as he watched her, his thoughts turned to how he could win her. Dumbledore had even begun offering him advice, all of which was completely impractical and some of it downright ridiculous. Snape was determined to win her on his terms, even if it took the rest of his life.  
  
Hermione was acutely aware of his intense scrutiny, concentrating on her work. He'd laid out the components of a rare potion used to cure cancer in the wizarding world, and it was only by luck that she'd recognised half the ingredients. The recipe was duly dredged up from the depths of her photographic memory, and she worked steadily, trying to ignore the heat his penetrating gaze sent through her body.  
  
At one point he came forward, taking her hand in his to aid in the stirring.  
  
'You mustn't stir too quickly, Hermione, otherwise the potion will curdle,' he told her, breathing in the grassy scent of her hair. She was fighting to contain her body's reaction to his chest pressed against her back, barely hearing his admonishment through the sudden haze of desire that surged through her. When he stepped away, her disappointment was edged with relief. How was she going to keep at this with him so close all the time? 


	25. Developments

Severus Snape sighed quietly, and pushed the pile of marking away, stifling a yawn. It wasn't yet seven o'clock, and he had been ordered by Madame Pomfrey to make sure that Hermione came to dinner this evening. The girl had been skipping meals for time to work on her research project, ignoring the fact that he'd given her the entire year. She seemed determined to finish it before Christmas.  
  
As always when he thought of his apprentice, a soft smile found its way onto his face. Snape was deeply grateful for this chance with her, always on the look-out for the perfect moment to confess his feelings. The trouble was, there was no such thing as a perfect moment, at least not in this school. Still, she had pronounced them friends a few days before, so he seemed to be making some progress.  
  
He glanced at the hourglass, and dragged himself to his feet, stretching his weary muscles. Locking the dungeon rooms and classroom, he made his way upstairs to Hermione's apartment. She let him in with a tired grin.  
  
'I've been ordered to escort you down to dinner,' he informed her with a hint of sarcasm.  
  
Hermione grimaced.  
  
'I don't think I can make it down tonight,' she said, gesturing to the mountains of books and parchment on her desk. 'I've still got a pile of books to wade through, and write up my thesis.'  
  
Snape caught her wrist as she waved her hand helplessly, forcing her to look at him in surprise. He pulled her around to face him, away from her work.  
  
'Hermione, stop pushing yourself so hard,' he said gently, fighting the urge to stroke a stray curl from her eyes. 'You have the whole year to complete this project, don't rush it.'  
  
He stepped closer, unable to stop himself. Hermione suppressed a shiver as he brushed her hair from her eyes, leaving his fingers to rest on her cheek.  
  
'Don't neglect yourself,' he murmured silkily, his black eyes burning into hers. 'You must always come first, before work.'  
  
Mesmerised by his tenderness, Hermione gazed up at him, her arms itching to wrap around him and pull him closer.  
  
'Why do you care so much?' she whispered, stepping slightly closer. She could almost feel his breath on her cheeks.  
  
Snape felt his heart slam violently. This was it, this was his chance.  
  
Tell her, Severus, he could almost hear Dumbledore saying. Tell her the truth.  
  
'Because . . .' he hesitated, afraid of what she might say or do.  
  
Hermione watched a myriad of emotions flash across his face, and suddenly knew he was trying to tell her what she had known all along. She wondered if she should make it easier for him, since he was obviously finding expressing himself in this instance painfully hard. Slowly she lifted a hand to cup his jaw, feeling him tense beneath her touch. His eyes never leaving hers, he relaxed somewhat hesitantly, reluctantly allowing himself to enjoy the sensation of being touched again.  
  
Suddenly there was a fearful yowl, and a huge ball of ginger fur and claws leapt between them, forcing the Potions Master back. Snape looked down at Crookshanks with surprise, quickly changing to chagrin. He'd been forced to back down by a cat.  
  
Hermione jumped, fighting down the urge to laugh at the sight of Crookshanks trying to outstare Snape. She scooped him up, scolding the fur ball quietly, and deposited him on the bed, inwardly furious that he'd chosen that moment to get jealous. When she returned, Snape had composed himself, extending a hand to take hers.  
  
'Allow me to take you down to dinner, Hermione,' he said smoothly, as if nothing untoward had happened.  
  
Hermione forced herself to smile, despite the raging disappointment, slipping a hand into his.  
  
'Thank you, Severus.'  
  
*~*~*  
  
Dumbledore watched from the doorway as Hermione helped a terrified third- year finish his detention in good time. Snape was nowhere to be seen, a sure sign that he was nearby. The boy heaved a sigh of relief as he deposited the last of the screw worms in a jar, grinning up at Hermione's disgusted expression.  
  
'I guess we're all done,' she told him, returning the grin in good humour. 'I'll tell Professor Snape. Run away before he gets back.'  
  
With a laugh that sounded oddly out of place in the gloom, the boy leapt up and hurried from the room, throwing a smile at the Headmaster as he passed. Dumbledore chuckled, shuffling into the classroom.  
  
'Good evening, Albus,' Hermione said cheerfully, holding the jar of worms at arm's length to place it in the cupboard. Dumbledore laughed at her suddenly squeamish behaviour.  
  
'You'll never make Potions Mistress if you're that squeamish, Hermione,' he told her, rewarded with a self-deprecating grimace.  
  
'I know,' she sighed, sitting down at one of the worktops. 'Were you looking for Severus?'  
  
'No, actually,' he said, sitting beside her. 'I was looking for you.'  
  
Hermione looked surprised.  
  
'Oh?'  
  
'I received a letter from the Ministry this morning. Draco Malfoy has requested that you be present at his father's execution.'  
  
Hermione's face froze, all the pain and humiliation she had suffered at the hands of Malfoy senior surging forward in her mind. Her usually rosy cheeks were suddenly bereft of all colour. Concerned, Dumbledore placed a hand under her elbow, just in time to catch her as she fell backwards in a dead faint.  
  
As he was struggling with her limp body, Snape strode into the dungeon, shocked into stillness by the sight of Hermione hanging from Dumbledore's arms.  
  
'Don't just stand there, Severus, help me,' the old wizard told him, and he sprang forward, lifting the small frame into his arms.  
  
With Dumbledore leading the way, they made their way through the halls of the school to Hermione's apartment, where Snape laid her gently on the bed, stroking her hair from her face. Crookshanks leapt up beside his witch, and mewed softly, pushing his nose against her cheek. Snape produced a small vial from his pocket, uncorking it and waving the sickly sweet perfume under her nose.  
  
Hermione's eyes flew open, and she struggled to sit up, groaning as her head swam. Snape tucked an arm under her shoulders, helping her sit gently. As Dumbledore watched, he ministered to the shocked girl with all the tenderness he could muster, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that he cared deeply for her.  
  
'What happened?' he demanded of the Headmaster, his anger at seeing Hermione so distressed boiling beneath his words.  
  
Dumbledore repeated what he had told the girl, seeing the anger grow into full-blown fury at the mention of Malfoy.  
  
'She cannot go, Albus,' Snape hissed, towering over his mentor. 'She's already been through enough, they have no right to ask this of her!'  
  
'May I remind you that the Ministry have no idea of her identity,' Dumbledore said sternly, 'nor any of what happened in the weeks preceding Voldemort's demise? It was Hermione's wish that it be so. However, I have also received word from Mr Malfoy that he will reveal it all, should Hermione fail to attend.'  
  
Snape's face was pinched white in anger, his eyes flashing with hatred.  
  
'How dare he?' he breathed, venom in every syllable. 'That boy has gone too far this time.'  
  
'Nevertheless, loath as I am to do this, Hermione must go to the execution,' Dumbledore said, regret filling his being. 'It is the lesser of the two evils. However, she will not go alone. You will go with her.'  
  
Snape stared at him.  
  
'Why me?' he asked softly, thrown off balance by this calm declaration.  
  
'Because she trusts you, and you are far more likely to be able to make Mr Malfoy back off than I am.'  
  
'Severus?' Hermione said weakly.  
  
With a final stern glance at the Headmaster, Snape returned to her side, to explain what it was she had to do.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Hermione bit her lips nervously, steeling herself for the ordeal to come. Beside her, Snape was a reassuring, if distant, comfort, his presence like a balm to her nerves. He glanced down at her with a thin-lipped smile, asking without words if she was okay. She nodded abruptly, following the Ministry official through the corridors to the chamber.  
  
As they entered, her eyes were drawn immediately to the Dementor in the corner, the dark hood swinging towards her. She faltered, continuing on only because of Snape's hand on her shoulder. He steered her clear of the forbidding presence, to face Malfoy and his mother. Narcissa, as always, held an expression of distaste on her beautiful face, as if there was a nasty smell right under her nose. Draco, on the other hand, looked positively cheerful, shaking Snape's hand with enthusiasm.  
  
'Professor, how good of you to come,' he said smoothly, obviously having learnt a thing or two from his father. He turned to Hermione, raising her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles. 'Hermione.'  
  
She removed her hand from his grasp, forcing herself to look him in the eye.  
  
'Draco,' she replied, trying to ignore the look of lust in his eyes as his gaze swept her body. He held her eyes a moment longer, before moving aside to speak with Fudge.  
  
Snape stepped closer to her, having seen her reaction to Draco's subtle taunt. He bent close to her ear.  
  
'Ignore him, Hermione,' he told her. 'He's trying to throw you off balance.'  
  
She nodded, throwing him a tense smile.  
  
As they took their seats, the door opened and Lucius Malfoy entered, flanked by two Aurors. He nodded to his son approvingly, his smug smile freezing Hermione's blood. There was something in his countenance that suggested he didn't think himself beaten. Unconsciously, she slid closer to Snape, taking comfort in his presence.  
  
Fudge stood, looking older and more worn down than Hermione had ever seen him, and faced Lucius. The Death-Eater held his gaze, his stance almost obscene in its confident satisfaction.  
  
'Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty of allegiance with He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named, and the murder and torture of countless innocents. You are sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. Do you have anything to say to those here present?'  
  
Lucius looked over his audience, his cold eyes coming to rest on Hermione. He stepped forward and bowed to her, eliciting a gasp from those gathered around them.  
  
'My lady,' he murmured, lifting her hand to kiss it.  
  
Hermione snatched her hand away, her face pale with shock and anger. Snape fixed Lucius with a glare so violent it momentarily took him aback. He rose, slightly unsettled, nodding to the Potions Master with brittle confidence. Kissing his wife, Lucius stood before the Dementor, the facade of serenity slipping from his features as the creature reached for him. As the hood lowered onto his face, he emitted one terrible agonised scream that echoed about the chamber.  
  
Hermione couldn't watch as the soul was torn from his body, hiding her face behind her hands in an attempt to shut out the sight. The dead body hit the ground with a dull crack as the neck broke. Lifeless grey eyes stared at the ceiling, and for a few shocked moments, there was complete silence in the chamber. Then a wail filled the air, and Narcissa Malfoy fell to her knees beside her husband's body, tears streaming from her eyes.  
  
Hermione rose, unable to take the noise, and quickly left the room, leaving Snape to deal with the hysterical woman. She leant against the wall, gulping in huge breaths of the cool air, fighting back sobs of terror. No one should have to die like that, not even for the most heinous of crimes. Not even Lucius Malfoy.  
  
A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped sideways, startled. Draco looked at her impassively, leaning against the wall to watch as she regained her composure.  
  
'What do you want, Malfoy?' she managed, trying not to look into his eyes.  
  
He smirked nastily.  
  
'You know, my mother's a very clever woman,' he said matter-of-factly. 'She'll keep Snape busy for, oh, just long enough, I should think.'  
  
Suddenly afraid, and very aware of how vulnerable she was, Hermione began to back away from her former schoolmate.  
  
'Long enough for what?'  
  
Draco's smirk widened into a malicious grin.  
  
'Now, if I told you that, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it, my lady?'  
  
His hand snaked out with lightning speed and grabbed her wrist, pulling her close to him. She could feel his breath on her neck as his other arm wrapped about her waist. Leaning back to look into his suddenly cold eyes, Hermione felt fear settle like a leaden weight on her heart. She opened her mouth to scream, and the world lurched. The corridor around her blurred and became a dark room that she knew all too well.  
  
Draco stepped away from her, watching as she took in where she was. The Tower. Everything was exactly as it had been. The fire burning on the hearth, the books lining the walls . . . the four-poster bed, its curtains hanging open invitingly. Hermione felt her heart plummet to new depths of despair as she turned to see Draco gazing at her, desire dominant in his eyes.  
  
'Remind you of home, Hermione?' he asked cruelly, stepping forward to take a strand of her hair between his fingers.  
  
She slapped his hand away violently, suddenly reminded of the way Voldemort had done exactly the same thing. Draco laughed at her, the sound cutting deep into her fragile body.  
  
'Don't think you can escape, Hermione,' he warned her. 'We know how you did it last time. You will stay here, and you will do as you are told.'  
  
'I'll never obey you,' she spat, backing away from him.  
  
He smirked.  
  
'You will,' he promised. 'There are dresses in the closet. You will join me for dinner tonight.'  
  
Hermione glared daggers at the man who held her captive.  
  
'No.'  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow.  
  
'Perhaps I didn't make myself clear,' he suggested. 'You will be dressed, and join me for dinner, or I will have those Muggles outside tortured and killed until you do.'  
  
He swept out, leaving her to stand in shock and fear in the room where she had spent so many nights grieving for the lives of the innocents. 


	26. Unpleasant Experiences

Snape stormed through the Ministry for Magic, almost frantic with worry for Hermione. He'd seen Draco follow Hermione from the room, realising at once that Narcissa's tears were a ploy. However, the woman had clung to him, forcing him to remain. As soon as he'd heard the unmistakable 'pop' of Apparation, he'd wrenched his arm from her, hurrying out into the corridor to locate Hermione. She hadn't been outside, and he knew she would not have gone far away from him unless she was forced. Turning back to the door, he had been confronted with Narcissa, all tears gone, smirking triumphantly at him.  
  
'You'll never find her, Severus,' she had gloated. 'My son will have command of her, and he will lead her father's army as the new Dark Lord. The next time you see her, she should be carrying my grandchild.'  
  
It had taken all of his self-control not to draw on her, his blood boiling with anger at their deviousness and his stupidity in letting her out of his sight. He knew she shouldn't have come here today.  
  
At a loss for anything else to do, he Apparated to Hogsmeade, startling many of the students who were enjoying a few hours' freedom from the castle. One look at his thunderous expression was enough to send them all hurrying for the shelter of the nearby shops as he stalked away to the castle.  
  
He burst in on Dumbledore having tea with Lupin, blurting out the whole story before pacing the floor in front of the hearth. The werewolf exchanged a glance with the Headmaster.  
  
'I'll get Rhys and Black,' he offered, excusing himself hurriedly.  
  
Dumbledore opened his mouth to offer some comfort, but Snape rounded on him.  
  
'Don't say a word, Albus,' he snapped. 'The lesser of the two evils, you said. Malfoy has his hands on her right this moment, all because you insisted that Hermione attending the execution was the lesser of two evils. I've lost her again, and this time it's all down to you!'  
  
He resumed his pacing, slightly guilty for the look of stricken guilt that consumed the old wizard's features on hearing this. The room fell silent, a silence edged with resentment and sorrow.  
  
'I am heartily sorry, Severus,' Dumbledore said quietly, all trace of his twinkle gone. 'It would appear that I am the cause of Hermione's downfall.'  
  
Snape slowed, coming to a halt in a dilemma of guilt, shame and worry. He turned to the heart-broken wizard sitting before him.  
  
'Albus, none of this is your fault,' he said gently. 'Ultimately, I was the one who was supposed to be looking out for her, and I lost her. Any blame in this should fall on me. My words were hasty, and I apologise.'  
  
Before Dumbledore could reply, the door burst open, and Lupin stumbled inside, followed by Rhys Mulqueen and Sirius Black.  
  
'What's this about Hermione being kidnapped again?'  
  
Snape nodded miserably.  
  
'Malfoy,' he muttered, turning away from the outraged Animagus.  
  
Sirius grasped his lapels and pulled him back, his face millimetres from Snape's.  
  
'What do you mean, Malfoy?' he snarled. 'You were supposed to be protecting her, you incompetent ball of grease!'  
  
Snape's gaze hardened, and he glared at Sirius, daring the other man to repeat himself. Slowly the shocked silence in the room got through to the furious Sirius, who shoved Snape away violently.  
  
'Thank you for making me aware of the blatantly obvious facts, Black,' he ground out from between clenched teeth.  
  
Rhys' hand shot out, slamming against Sirius' chest as he moved towards Snape again. Pushing hard, she forced him to sit down, placing herself between the furious men.  
  
'What's going on?' she demanded.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Hermione tugged on the neckline of the gown she'd been forced into, pulling it up. There were bruises on her fair skin from where the women had resorted to violence to dress her up for Draco. Her hair had been brushed painfully, and drawn up into a cascade of curls that tumbled over her shoulders.  
  
The door opened, and the swish of robes announced her captor's entrance. She refused to turn and greet him, jumping as his hand snaked around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. His breath was hot on her bare shoulder as he traced his fingers lightly up her arm. She tensed, hating every second of his ministrations.  
  
'You look beautiful, my lady,' he murmured into her ear, planting a kiss on the tender skin at her nape.  
  
Unable to stand his closeness any longer, Hermione pushed away, turning to face him with a defiant expression. He chuckled, amused by her empty show of rebellion, but prepared to tolerate it for a while.  
  
'You should dress up more often, Hermione,' he suggested. 'I never would have guessed that you had grown into such a lovely example of the feminine sex.'  
  
His eyes raked her defenceless body. She stiffened, determined not to rise to the bait, her skin flushing in anger at his smug expression. He extended a hand towards her.  
  
'Have you let them go?' she blurted out, not moving from the window.  
  
He frowned, obviously confused by her question.  
  
'The Muggles,' she explained. 'Have you let them go?'  
  
Draco smiled, inclining his head to her.  
  
'There were no Muggles, my dear Hermione. I just wanted to make sure you would obey me.'  
  
Fury flashed across her face as he stepped closer, pinning her against the wall.  
  
'I think we should forego dinner,' he murmured, leaning down to crush her lips with his own.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape sat by the window, fuming silently, as plans were discussed around him. His mind kept wandering to Hermione, and the threat Narcissa had made.  
The next time you see her, she should be carrying my grandchild.  
  
Suddenly it all clicked into place. Abruptly he stood, silencing the conversation in the room.  
  
'I believe I know what Malfoy's plans are,' he told them, noticing that even Black was listening to him. 'Narcissa told me that the next time I saw Hermione, she should be carrying Draco's child. He plans to use Hermione to secure his position at the head of Voldemort's army.'  
  
'Who better to ally yourself with than the Dark Lord's daughter?' Sirius agreed, horrified. 'Hermione would never agree to it.'  
  
'Do you seriously think that would stop him?'  
  
Lupin shook his head, seeing another danger.  
  
'If Hermione is a virgin, once he has had her, she'll be powerless to resist his will,' he added. 'Her power will be used against us, and believe me, she is among the most powerful witches I've ever met.'  
  
Snape felt his heart clench in fear for her. No one had dared use the old ways to bind lovers together for centuries, but he knew that Malfoy would stop at nothing to gain control of Voldemort's army. If he took Hermione's virginity, her soul would be bound to his for all eternity, forced to capitulate to his will. She would be powerless to prevent her own strength being raised against her former friends, and she would be the figurehead for the Death-Eaters. It was almost too terrible to contemplate.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, wearily seeing the true import of the plan.  
  
'Hermione will fight him, though,' Rhys said quietly. 'And she knows how to fight without resorting to magic, something I doubt Malfoy has ever had to learn.'  
  
Snape thumped the desk suddenly, the only outward sign of his rising anger.  
  
'But we can't do anything without knowing where she is!'  
  
Ignoring the surprised shock on their faces, he turned away to gaze out at the moonlight.  
  
Please, Hermione, he thought pleadingly. Please, give me a sign, a hint. Anything to show me where you are, and I'll come for you, I swear.  
  
Dumbledore rose stiffly, looking around at his gathered Order.  
  
'I believe I can find her for you,' he said softly, and four pairs of hopeful eyes turned on him. 'We will need to go into the Forbidden Forest.'  
  
Hagrid was duly summoned, and together the six wizards walked down to where the trees loomed dark and forbidding at the edge of the grounds. Dumbledore led the way, picking a path between the trees so convoluted that Snape felt certain he would never find his way out of there alone. He was aware of eyes watching them in the darkness, of inhuman voices marking their passage with comments and questions. In front of him, Rhys glanced tensely about her, obviously uncomfortable with their surroundings.  
  
Suddenly the trees thinned out, revealing a clearing in which there seemed to be a gathering of centaurs. Their chatter stopped abruptly as the wizards entered, hostile stares aimed in their direction, from every face but one. An aged centaur trotted out from the trees, a smile on his wrinkled face.  
  
'Dumbledore, my old friend!' he cried, taking the Headmaster's hand. 'To what do we owe this pleasure?'  
  
Dumbledore smiled up at him.  
  
'Good evening, Philippe,' he said warmly. 'I'm afraid I have need of your skills with the stars.'  
  
Philippe frowned.  
  
'Afraid? This cannot be good. Never before have you asked me for a prediction.'  
  
'Not a prediction, my friend, but a location.'  
  
The centaur looked confused, but another voice spoke from behind him.  
  
'The daughter of darkness lies in danger, Philippe, or had you not noticed?'  
  
A younger centaur moved into the light, his brown coat shining in the moonlight. Philippe snorted derisively.  
  
'I have no patience for such legends, Raoul.'  
  
Raoul smiled gently at his friend's ignorance.  
  
'She is no legend.'  
  
He turned to the wizards, his gaze sweeping over them to rest briefly on Snape. The Potions Master fancied he saw sympathy and compassion in those eyes before they moved onwards.  
  
'The daughter of darkness fights for her soul in the home of her father,' he told them, watching as the import of what he said sank in.  
  
'The Tower,' breathed Lupin, eyes wide in anger.  
  
Raoul nodded.  
  
'One thing can I do for you,' he offered. 'I can send one of your number to her side, to save her soul from torment.'  
  
They all looked at Snape, fully aware of his feelings for Hermione. He nodded, stepping forward.  
  
'I would ask one thing,' he said quietly, his mind on what he might find. 'Are Voldemort's wards still active?'  
  
Raoul gazed heavenward for a moment, before bringing his kohl-rimmed eyes back to Snape's face.  
  
'The answer you seek is yes, but you may Apparate away once the daughter of darkness is safe.'  
  
Snape nodded again, glancing at his companions. Then he set his jaw and turned to face Raoul.  
  
'I will go,' he told the centaur, bracing himself for movement.  
  
'So be it.'  
  
*~*~*  
  
Draco staggered backwards under the force of Hermione's blow. Astonished, he raised a hand to his cheek, where her handprint was a glowing red against the pearlescent white of his skin. She watched him warily, pressed back against the bookshelves. Her palm stung from the slap, but she was hardly going to admit it to him. For the first time since she'd met Rhys Mulqueen, she was grateful for the self-defence classes the Welsh witch had given them.  
  
Draco snarled at her, furious that she should try to resist him. He rushed her, grabbing her wrist as she slipped to one side, his fingers biting painfully into her soft skin. He pulled her back to him, seeking her lips once more and capturing them in a kiss that was nothing short of brutal. Hermione whimpered against his mouth, both hands in his grip. He pressed himself against her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She did the only thing she could think of.  
  
Draco howled in pain and fury, throwing her to one side as blood welled up from his tongue.  
  
'You bit me!' he hissed incredulously, one hand pressed to his mouth.  
  
Hermione wiped his blood from her chin, struggling to her feet. The dress was torn, barely covering her torso, the evidence of Draco's struggles to touch her. Her mouth and neck ached horribly from his ministrations. Seeing the pure hatred in his eyes, she began to back away, wondering if the door was unlocked.  
  
She glanced to her right, looking back in time to receive a fist in her face. Blood trickled down her lip. Dazed, she stumbled back, surprised that Draco, the consummate gentleman, would strike her. Moving almost faster than she could follow, Draco grasped her about the waist, lifting her up and throwing her onto the bed.  
  
Hermione's head swam, her eyes unfocused. She was vaguely aware of someone lifting her skirts, of strong hands on her thighs. Abruptly, she came back to herself. She kicked out with a yell, catching Draco a thump on the side of the head. As he blinked past the dizziness, she rolled away from him, scrambling upright and across the bed.  
  
He climbed over the rumpled sheets to reach her, blocking her only means of escape. Draco slammed her backwards into the bookcase, no longer caring if he hurt her or not. His hand roughly kneaded her breast, ripping the material of her gown further. Hermione pushed at him weakly, realising with a terrible sinking feeling that she didn't have the strength to fight him. Seeing her despair, he grinned maliciously, bruising her already sore lips with yet another violent kiss.  
  
Suddenly a hand grasped his shoulder. Turning in shock, Draco had just enough time to see Severus Snape's furious face before the Potions Master's fist smashed into his nose with a sickening crack. Draco howled in pain, falling backwards as his former professor advanced on him. He lashed out, catching Snape's shoulder a glancing blow, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Another heavy punch threw the arrogant young man against the door. His head slammed back against the ancient wood, and he slid to the ground, unconscious. Snape snarled down at him, fully prepared to kick the defenceless youth to death.  
  
'Severus?'  
  
He turned quickly at Hermione's voice. Her knees buckled and she slid down the bookcase, landing in a heap on the floor. Snape hurried to her side, lifting her head to look into her eyes. Blood ran from her nose, her lips were swollen, and bruises marred her fair skin. Seeing the destruction Malfoy's lustful advances had wrought on her gown, Snape slipped his coat off, wrapping it around her. Hermione gazed up into his eyes, tears beginning to leak from her own.  
  
'You came,' she whispered disbelievingly. 'I kept hoping you'd come, but -'  
  
Sobs wracked her ravaged form. Snape held her close, rocking her gently.  
  
'Shhh,' he murmured, 'I'm here now. I won't let him hurt you again.'  
  
He lifted her into his arms, standing carefully. Hermione's arms tightened on him as she buried her head in his shoulder. Sparing a contemptuous glance for Malfoy's crumpled form, Snape Apparated away, Hermione cradled tenderly against him.  
  
*~*~*  
  
You know, I'm getting the distinct impression that no one cares whether I re-write this or not. I've had two - TWO - reviews since I started, and am seriously considering giving up and letting you stew for a bit. Come on, guys, I need to feel loved, or they might never get together at all! 


	27. Promises

Snape sat beside Hermione's bed, watching as she slept. She had not let go of his hand since he'd brought her back, refusing to let him leave her. His blood still boiled at the treatment Malfoy had subjected her to, his heart demanding revenge. But he wasn't going to leave her if she didn't want him to.  
  
Gently he reached out and stroked her chestnut curls, smiling tenderly when she instinctively turned towards the loving touch. He didn't care that Sirius Black was watching, seeing his attachment to her, only that his presence had somehow calmed her. Her grip tightened momentarily on his hand, drawing it closer in her sleep.  
  
Sirius watched this, feeling oddly like a child who had walked in on his parents having a moment together. Even he could see the love, the bond between these two, and he was loath to interrupt. His plan had been to make sure that Snape wouldn't intimidate Hermione when she woke, but the longer he remained, the more certain he became that no such thing would take place.  
  
Eventually, he rose quietly, hoping not to disturb them. Snape glanced up at him, frowning at his movement. Sirius held up his hands in a gesture of peace.  
  
'I'll leave you to it,' he said softly, squeezing Snape's shoulder before walking out.  
  
The Potions Master stared after him, aware that the air between them had finally been cleared, after twenty years of distrust. Hermione stirred slightly, her grip on his hand relaxing as she rolled over. Gently he removed his hand, standing and slipping to the door.  
  
'Where are you going?'  
  
He stopped, looking back at the bed, where Hermione was gazing at him with fearful eyes. He sighed softly.  
  
'I was going to leave you in peace.'  
  
She sat up, her hair falling about her shoulders.  
  
'Don't leave me,' she pleaded, her breathing hitching in a way that suggested tears were not far away.  
  
Snape smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his stern features, and returned to her side. Hermione captured his hands in hers, looking into his eyes with all the love in her heart. His breath caught in his throat as she wrapped her arms about his neck, pulling him into a close embrace. He hesitated for a moment before slipping his arms around her waist, revelling in the feel of her body pressed against his. She pulled back, laying her forehead against his.  
  
'Stay with me,' she breathed, once again caught up by the glittering emotion in his black eyes.  
  
He gazed at her, sensing that something had changed. His heart was hammering in his chest as he leant closer, laying her gently back on the bed. His hand sought hers and held it, the soft pressure of his slender fingers calming her more than flowery words or gestures. She smiled sleepily, pushing aside the events of the evening, happy to be lying here with Snape beside her. Slowly her eyes drifted shut, and she sighed, falling deeply asleep.  
  
Snape gazed at her, feeling his chest tighten as she pulled his hand closer, laying it on her cheek. She was so vulnerable and innocent, even after all she had been through. He didn't deserve her, he reminded himself. She should never have to deal with the taint on his soul. Decided, he returned his gaze to contemplating her peaceful face and felt his expression soften once more. Stay with me, she had said.  
  
Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he leant forward until his mouth was by her ear.  
  
'For as long as you need me,' he promised, and kissed her cheek softly.  
  
Hermione stirred, a contented smile curving her lips, as though she had heard him. Snape sighed. He knew he had to let her go, but he didn't know what he would do without her.  
  
*~*~*  
  
The winter sunlight shone bright and cold through the casement, illuminating the pillow on which Hermione's head rested. She groaned, grimacing against the light, and rolled over to find herself confronted by a grinning face. She sat bolt upright with a little shriek, scrambling backwards on the bed with a scowl firmly in place on her features.  
  
Ron laughed, standing up from where he'd been kneeling by the bed. Hermione punched his arm, half-serious.  
  
'What are you trying to do, give me a heart-attack?' she demanded, cinnamon eyes blazing.  
  
All she got in reply was an impish grin as her friend threw himself onto the bed beside her, ruffling Crookshanks' fur. The ginger cat drew in his claws and caught the intruder a tidy thump about the shoulder. Ron yelped, rubbing the sore spot with self-pitying frown. Hermione laughed.  
  
'Don't look at me for sympathy,' she warned as he turned puppy-dog eyes on her. 'What are you doing here? And how did you get in?'  
  
Ron sighed, gazing happily up at the ceiling.  
  
'Ah, house-elves,' he breathed, 'wonderful creatures, aren't they?'  
  
Hermione's eyebrow rose sardonically.  
  
'Ron,' she said quietly, her tone dangerous.  
  
Ron glanced at her, and bounced about on the mattress until he was face to face with his best friend. Twisting a lock of chestnut hair between his fingers, he leant forward conspiratorially and whispered,  
  
'Can you keep a secret?'  
  
Fighting back an amused smile, Hermione nodded, intrigued by his amazingly good spirits.  
  
'I've been offered a place as an Auror.'  
  
Hermione gasped, extremely pleased for him. As she moved to embrace him, Ron held up a hand.  
  
'That's not all,' he told her, a genuine grin of sincere pleasure plastered across his freckled face. 'Parvati's agreed to marry me.'  
  
The next thing he knew was that Hermione's arms were around his neck, and she was squealing with happiness for him. He wrapped his arms about her, glad that the news hadn't brought up bad memories. He knew for a fact - because he'd been the other half of the conversation - that Harry had planned on asking Hermione to marry him when she was settled in a safe house. Still, she didn't know, and ignorance couldn't hurt her.  
  
'When is the wedding?' she asked, eyes glowing with joy for her friends.  
  
Ron grinned.  
  
'Easter, sometime,' he told her, stroking her hair. 'Parvati wants you to help her pick out her gown.'  
  
Hermione looked astonished, but pleased, agreeing instantly to assist her old Housemate. Ron nodded to himself, seeing the glow on her cheeks that had disappeared for months over the last year. Now she was settled again, and in love, she was slowly coming back to herself. He prodded her stomach playfully.  
  
'How's the grand seduction coming?'  
  
Hermione groaned and hit him with a pillow.  
  
'Do you have to call it that?'  
  
He chuckled, grabbing the pillow from her grasp as she raised it again.  
  
'Still just friends, then?'  
  
She sagged, grinning at his mockingly sympathetic gaze.  
  
'Yes, but I'm working on it,' she assured him.  
  
'Oh, that reminds me,' Ron said suddenly. 'Can't think why, but there you go. Mum wants to know if you'll come and spend Christmas with us. Even Laura's been talked into it, and you're the only one who can keep Percy from driving us all insane, 'Mione.'  
  
Hermione gave him a calculating look.  
  
She had planned on spending Christmas with Snape, trying to force him to admit his feelings. But now she thought about it, they were both chafing under the amount of time they were spending together. So a little time apart might help her cause a great deal. She nodded, yelping in surprise when Ron lifted her off the bed and swung her about.  
  
'That's brilliant! I'll meet you off the Express, and you can fill me in on all the sordid details!'  
  
Laughing indignantly, Hermione watched him leave, curling up on her bed to try and recapture the sleep that he had so rudely interrupted. Crookshanks curled up beside her, purring madly. She stroked him gently.  
  
'You'll have to get used to sharing me, Crooks,' she murmured. 'If I get my way, there'll be another man about the house.'  
  
The ginger cat gave her a look as if to say 'I'll believe it when I see it' and yawned, settling his head on her hand. Hermione smiled softly. She would get her way, she was certain of it.  
  
*~*~*  
  
'Merry Christmas!'  
  
Both Ginny and Hermione groaned at the roar that echoed through the house. Ron was up, probably dragging the twins out of bed to go and attack the piles of gifts that were at the foot of their bed.  
  
At the other end of their room, Laura forced herself awake, prodding Parvati with her foot. Contrary to Molly's fears that the dragon-keeper wouldn't get along with the younger girls, Laura had warmed straight to them, sharing confidences that she insisted Charlie didn't even know yet. The four of them had stayed up talking until the early hours, finally drifting to sleep when they couldn't hold it off any longer.  
  
'Come on, girls, wake up,' she encouraged, throwing her pillows at Ginny.  
  
Parvati obliged by doing the same to Hermione, who sighed under the bedclothes and gave up trying to stay asleep, since the world was so obviously against it. She sat up, returning the pillows with pinpoint accuracy, and laughing as Parvati fell backwards off the bed.  
  
Between the three of them, they managed to drag Ginny out of slumber, wrapping her in a dressing gown, and depositing her on the floor in front of her presents. She grumbled all the way, but was soon tearing open her gifts with as much enthusiasm as they were.  
  
Hermione's eye fell on a tiny green and silver wrapped box, hidden beneath the other gifts. Lifting it out, she tried to quell the sudden hammering of her heart as she read the familiar scrawl on the card. Just a simple note, but one she knew must have cost him a lot to write.  
  
~ Merry Christmas, Hermione.~  
  
She knew from the other professors that Snape never got involved in Christmas, refusing gifts and never deigning to send any, and so felt oddly privileged to have made such an impression on him. Carefully opening it, hoping her friends wouldn't notice her shaking hands, she found it contained a single emerald tear-drop, suspended on a silver chain so thin as to be almost invisible. Deep within the gem sparkled a tiny red flame.  
  
Looking over her shoulder, Ginny gasped.  
  
'Great stars, 'Mione, who gave you that? It's beautiful!'  
  
Hermione nodded, dumbstruck, as she fought back a wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.  
  
'Severus,' she told them, seeing the utter disbelief on their faces.  
  
She lifted it from the box, feeling her fingers tingle, telling her that it was charmed. Probably against breakage, she decided, and fastened it about her neck, her heart singing with love for the man who had sent it. The emerald hung in the hollow of her throat, sparkling in the sunlight.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape walked slowly through the hallways of Hogwarts, trying to fight the desperate feeling of loneliness that welled up inside him. Outside the snow was falling in huge drifts, the wind keeping the students and staff alike inside. Yet another Christmas at Hogwarts. At least there weren't hundreds of children running about under his feet. Most had gone home for the holidays.  
  
His face froze as he thought of who else had gone. Hermione. She'd been invited to the Weasley's for Christmas, and he couldn't begrudge her the chance to spend time with her friends. The two Aurors who had raised her as a Muggle for all this time had left her to her own devices, since she was now old enough to make her own decisions. Still, he was finding it hard not to feel resentful of them.  
  
Without Hermione, they would still have a warm familial festival. She had chosen to leave him alone at one of the loneliest times of the year. He shook himself mentally. He had no right to expect her to remain with him. After all, what warmth had he shown her during her time with him?  
  
Unbidden, images of her working in his workshop rose in his mind. The day she had slipped, and he'd caught her, acutely aware of how close their bodies were. The evenings they'd spent together, trying to find out exactly how her proposed potion for the research would work. Her constant teasing about how he should wear colours other than black. Her smile, her laugh, the gentle caress of her gaze as her cinnamon eyes fixed on his. He sighed softly.  
  
The door to his apartment opened slowly, allowing him passage within. Contrary to popular opinion, Snape didn't ward or password his rooms, knowing the mind of the inquisitive student a little too well. Rather than try the simple unlocking charm, they would research every ward breaker and password generator they could find, completely unable to work out why their attempts had failed.  
  
A faint scent reached his nose, causing his brow to furrow in confusion. Looking around, he noticed to his surprise a box on his desk. It was wrapped up in a silver ribbon, and had a card that bore his name. His heart skipped a beat as he recognised the scent. Hermione's shampoo. It always left a sharp sweet smell in the air, no matter how short a time she'd been there. He picked up the box, a smile forming on his pale face.  
  
Opening it like a child on his first Christmas morning, he found it contained a shirt of such deep blue that it was almost black. It smelt of Hermione, sending his imagination into over-drive. Had she worn it? How had she chosen it? Why? As he held the silken material up to the dim light of a nearby candle, a small square of card fell out of its folds.  
  
Retrieving it, he read,  
  
~ Still think I'm only teasing? Next time I see you, you'd better be wearing this. Anyway, have a great Christmas, Severus. Thinking of you,  
  
Hermione. ~  
  
He snorted, the old habit of keeping laughter in check asserting itself. Shaking his head, he re-read the note, his eyes lingering on the last line. Thinking of you. Again, he asked himself, why? Could it be that she was developing feelings for him?  
  
He dismissed the possibility off-hand. She was probably thinking of how lonely he was, how completely Scrooge he'd been about the whole season. But part of him hoped, in the dark depths of his soul, that she meant that she missed him, maybe even loved him. It was a foolish hope, he knew, but one that held a fragile promise of happiness. 


	28. A Near Miss

Hermione swallowed her nerves, telling herself ruthlessly that there was nothing to worried about, and raised a hand to knock on the door. There was no answer from the dungeon within, so she knocked again, hearing quiet curses from the other side of the door. Her hand went involuntarily to the gem nestled against her throat as she stepped back, prepared to run in case anything untoward came hurtling through the ancient wood.  
  
'Professor Snape?' she called. 'Are you there?'  
  
The door opened quietly, and she was confronted with a very disgruntled looking Potions Master.  
  
'I'm sorry, did I interrupt something important?' she asked, inwardly amused at his black expression.  
  
Snape suppressed the hateful remark that rose in his throat, his eyes travelling to her throat. A gentle surge of calm swept through him as he realised she was wearing his gift.  
  
'No, I was going over my lesson plan for this term,' he said stepping to one side to allow her access to the room. 'Is there anything I can help you with, Hermione?'  
  
'I was just wondering if I could retrieve my research from the desk,' she said, noting the blue tinge on his shirt. She hid a satisfied smile. 'I had several ideas over the holiday and I need to go over them while they are fresh in my mind.'  
  
He nodded, a brief look of concern passing over his features.  
  
'I hope you are not going to work yourself into the ground this term, Hermione,' he said softly. 'I was hoping you might like to take a few of my lessons.'  
  
Her face lit up with excitement, making it difficult for him to suppress the smile that rose in response on his face.  
  
'I'd love to, Severus,' she replied, producing the huge roll of parchment her notes were on from his desk. 'And no, I'm not going to overdo it. I only have a little bit more to go, anyway.'  
  
Despite himself, Snape was impressed. His own research had taken him the entire year to do, ending in several sleepless nights while he fought to bring it all together before his deadline. But then, that wasn't Hermione's way. It occurred to him that he didn't actually know what she was researching.  
  
'If I may ask, what is your research on?'  
  
She smiled softly, hearing the real curiosity lurking behind the indifference in his voice.  
  
'Ways to make the reduction of memory less painful,' she said quietly, remembering her own experience with the potion.  
  
Snape nodded, seeing the wisdom in her choice. She would be able to write from experience, and that would give her the edge over other students every time. He touched her hand involuntarily.  
  
'As I said, Hermione, don't work yourself to a standstill,' he told her softly, the rich tones of his voice caressing her gently with his concern. 'Your health must always be your priority. Remember, I am here to help you, not just to teach.'  
  
She smiled, grateful for his concern.  
  
'Thank you, Severus.'  
  
She turned to leave, stopping at the door to look back at him. He was staring down at his own parchment, lost in thought.  
  
'Severus?'  
  
He looked up, brow furrowing in confusion at seeing her still by the door. Hermione grinned suddenly, her amusement evident as she looked him up and down.  
  
'I like your shirt,' she said mischievously, and slipped out, leaving him to bask in the after-glow of her smile.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape stood at the back of the classroom, unseen by the students, watching as Hermione took her first Potions class. They were first years, Slytherin and Gryffindor, and all in awe of her for choosing to apprentice with someone they saw as their worst nightmare. He allowed himself a moment of pride as his gaze swept the room, seeing the students hanging on her every word.  
  
He had to admit, she did explain well. No wonder Longbottom had always turned to her when completely baffled by one thing or another. Snape would be very surprised if any of this class bungled the fairly standard potion she was talking them through.  
  
As the lesson progressed, he saw himself in her as she wandered about the classroom, checking on everyone's progress. But where he would have offered a snide remark to an insecure pupil, she encouraged them, explaining what they had done wrong, and offering to take them through the next stage of the potion. He was fairly certain that they were learning just as much with Hermione as they did with him.  
  
'Miss Granger?'  
  
Hermione turned towards the tiny voice, and saw one of the Slytherin boys edging carefully away from his cauldron, which was smoking. With a grin, she wandered over and took it off the heat, reassuring him that she wasn't angry with him.  
  
'What do you think went wrong, Kieran?'  
  
He frowned, obviously dredging up the recipe she'd given them. Then he blushed, and an embarrassed smile appeared on his worried face.  
  
'I forgot to take it off the heat before adding the centaur hair,' he told her.  
  
Hermione smiled back at him, knowing that he wouldn't do it again now that it had gone wrong once. This was the way she had taught Neville what Snape couldn't, through trial and error, and was glad to see that it worked with groups as well.  
  
She desperately wanted to impress her tutor, to make him see that you could get the same results by being pleasant to the students. A gasp drew her attention to one of the front row Gryffindors, who had managed to finish her potion and was amazed to see it glowing a brilliant green.  
  
'Well done, Emily,' Hermione enthused, using the girl's cauldron to show the rest of them what the finished product should look like.  
  
Whereas in Snape's lessons, such enthusiasm would be a catalyst for antagonism between the two Houses, Hermione showed such impartiality that both Slytherin and Gryffindor alike threw themselves into their work, determined to please her with their success. Soon the room was bright with green light, all emanating from the cauldrons before them.  
  
They bottled the potions, all of which were fit for use, and were packed and ready to go when the bell rang. However, instead of the stampede that usually signalled the end of Potions, they left in an orderly way, nodding and smiling to Hermione as they passed her.  
  
As the door shut behind the last one, Snape removed the spell that had kept him invisible, and approached Hermione where she was reading through her lesson plan. She looked up at him with an inquisitive smile.  
  
'I admit, your method does seem to work,' he sighed, ignoring the triumphant grin that spread across her face. 'I believe that is the first Potions lesson I have ever seen first years enjoy. You've done well.'  
  
Hermione inclined her head, inwardly rejoicing at not having completely failed.  
  
'Thank you, Severus. I understand how it must have pained you to admit that, so I'm not going to rub it in too much.'  
  
He glared warningly at her, secretly as pleased at her success as she was. Hermione's grin just widened, knowing how he hated to be teased.  
  
'I'm warning you, Miss Granger -'  
  
Her eyes widened innocently.  
  
'Oh, so it's back to Miss Granger, is it?' she asked archly. 'Do you feel so very threatened by my success, Professor Snape?'  
  
He stepped closer, trying to use his height to intimidate her and only succeeding in placing himself in temptation's path.  
  
'Hermione,' he growled, his eyes glittering with an unreadable emotion.  
  
She looked up into his eyes, lost in the intensity of his gaze. She felt as if she could drown in the black orbs willingly. Snape was captivated by the sudden warmth of her cinnamon eyes, feeling his heart threatening to burst from his chest as he leant down, closer to her. Their noses almost touching, he saw her lick her lips, in unconscious invitation to him. Neither heard the door swing open.  
  
'Goodness me, I do apologise,' Dumbledore said cheerfully, clearing his throat loudly as they leapt apart. He smiled in the face of Snape's glare, aware that Hermione had blushed crimson and was gathering up her parchment.  
  
'I was wondering, Severus, do you have a moment? The Chief Auror is in my office, and he'd like a word.'  
  
Snape drew in a deep breath. He'd never felt so angry towards the Headmaster as he did now. All it would have taken was for him to have waited a few more seconds . . . Still, if the Auror wanted him, he would have to go. He nodded to Hermione, whose cheeks, if possible, grew even darker red, and left, sweeping past Dumbledore with as much dignity as he could muster.  
  
Hermione glared mockingly at the old wizard, who stood watching her from the doorway, his amusement evident on his face.  
  
'You know,' she said speculatively, 'for a man reputed to be the most powerful wizard in the world, you have God-awful timing, Albus.'  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape stepped into the office, and was confronted with Septimus Hunnicut, Chief Auror for the Ministry of Magic, cooing at Fawkes with a ridiculous expression on his face. He coughed quietly, and the older man, far from being embarrassed, pulled himself to his feet with a welcoming grin.  
  
'Professor Snape, thank you for coming. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?'  
  
Irritation flared again in Snape's breast, but he forced it down. He could hardly blame the man before him for his own inability to seize the moment.  
  
'No, I was going over the last lesson with my apprentice, Miss Granger.'  
  
Hunnicut nodded sagely.  
  
'Oddly enough, it is regarding Miss Granger that I wished to speak with you,' he said, indicating that Snape should sit. 'I have been given information to the effect that she is the only living relative of He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named, and that she was instrumental in his demise. Is that correct?'  
  
Not for the first time, Snape wished Dumbledore were there. He didn't want to reveal facts which Hermione wanted concealed, and yet if he lied, he could be given Veritaserum, as a former Death-Eater, to force him to reveal the truth. After a moment's struggle with himself, he looked up at Hunnicut, who seemed strangely aware of his inner turmoil.  
  
'I can assure you, Professor, that whatever you tell me goes no further. However, it could be instrumental in the conviction of a former pupil of yours, goes by the name of Malfoy?'  
  
Snape stiffened. So the boy had gone through with his threat, but it appeared that the Aurors were not about to let him go just because he had given them some rather bizarre facts about his former Master.  
  
'He has been apprehended then?'  
  
Hunnicut nodded.  
  
'Yes,' he said matter-of-factly. 'We had a tip off that he'd kidnapped a young woman and was using her a ritual in You-Know-Who's Tower. When we got there, he was unconscious and the girl was nowhere to be found. His cronies told us a great deal, but to verify that, we need to know if what he told us is truth or not. The Headmaster told me that you could set us straight.'  
  
Snape hesitated, thinking it over. Finally, hoping Hermione would forgive him, he nodded, and proceeded to tell the Auror everything.  
  
'Would Miss Granger be able to testify for us, do you think?'  
  
Snape shook his head vehemently.  
  
'No, and I would strongly advise you not to ask her. By her own decision, she has had her memory modified, and does not wish anyone to know of her relationship with Voldemort or her part in his death.'  
  
Hunnicut looked confused.  
  
'Who wouldn't want to take the credit for killing the Dark Lord?'  
  
'Someone who wouldn't want the world to know that she had killed her own father,' Snape told him darkly.  
  
Finally understanding, the Auror nodded.  
  
'I give you my word, Professor, what you have told me goes no further.'  
  
Snape inclined his head.  
  
'My thanks, sir. May I go? I have duties to my House.'  
  
Hunnicut nodded.  
  
'Of course, Professor. Thank you for your help.'  
  
As Snape left the room, he felt an icy stab of conscience. It hadn't been his place to say anything. Still, he hoped Hermione would understand, should she ever find out. He certainly had no intention of telling her. 


	29. Arguments and Weddings

Hermione glanced up from the steaming cauldron to look at her tutor. He seemed engrossed in a stack of fifth-year essays, making the occasional comment on them in his illegible scrawl. He'd barely spoken to her since that afternoon when they'd almost kissed, becoming cold and distant once more, reverting to the Snape she knew was a facade.  
  
What hurt was the fact that he now seemed to deem her no longer worthy of comment, be it praise or a snide remark. He was treating her with indifference that she knew he didn't feel, and it was tearing her apart. On the one hand, she wanted desperately for him to kiss her, the way he had almost done before. However, on the other hand, she wanted him to suffer for making her feel as if his emotions were all her fault.  
  
She mashed the mandrake root mercilessly in the pestle and mortar, adding it carefully to the simmering mixture before her. Her hair fell into her eyes, but rather than flick it away, she ignored it, preferring to have something to hide behind.  
  
Snape looked up at her from lowered eyelids, seeing the force with which she was crushing the root. She was angry about something, but he daren't ask what, for fear that he would lose control the way he had before. He had wanted so much to kiss her, to hold her in his arms, that he had forgotten for a moment just how wrong he was for her. He knew he was being unfair to her by becoming the professor once more, but it was the only way he could protect her from himself.  
  
His heart ached with having her so close all the time, and yet untouchable. He refused to bring her into his life, refused to taint her carefully preserved innocence with his dark past. As much as he longed to stroke her hair from her face, press his lips to hers, he knew he mustn't, because to do so would be to corrupt her. So he replaced his mask, and retreated behind the cold arrogant git that had kept her hatred of him alive for six years.  
  
Hermione could feel his eyes on her, letting herself enjoy the sensation of being watched by the one she loved. Distracted by this, her hand caught the cauldron rim, tipping the delicately balanced piece of equipment over, and spilling the contents across the worktop. She raised her hands to protect her face as the potion began to spit.  
  
A hand grasped the back of her robes and yanked her to safety. Snape stepped past her, clearing the mess with his wand, and fighting the anger that boiled inside him for such a stupid mistake.  
  
'Miss Granger, in all the years I have known you, never have I seen you make such an idiotic mistake,' he snapped, ignoring the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. 'Go to the Hospital Wing, and I'll see you tomorrow, when hopefully your attention will be on work!'  
  
Hermione turned and ran from the room, fighting the tears that streamed down her face. Snape watched her go, ashamed of his behaviour. He knew if he'd not been treating her so badly, she would not have upset the cauldron. He drew in a deep breath, and returned to repairing the damage to the worktop, resolving to find her when he was done.  
  
When he reached the Hospital Wing and enquired after her, Madame Pomfrey gave him a strange look, denying that she had seen Hermione that day.  
  
'She's not been up here today, Severus,' she told him, sending a fourth-year off with instructions not to be so stupid next time. 'What's happened?'  
  
Reluctant to admit his shameful behaviour, Snape shrugged.  
  
'She's not in her chambers, and I wanted to speak with her about her research,' he lied, turning to leave swiftly. Cursing himself, he made his way to her chambers, only to discover that his lie was the truth. Hermione was nowhere to be found.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Later that evening, Snape was pacing his private room in agitation when a furious Ronald Weasley stumbled from his fireplace, spluttering in anger.  
  
'Mr Weasley, how good of you not to ask to visit,' he said irritably.  
  
Ron shook a finger under his nose.  
  
'Shut up,' he said abruptly, 'and sit down. We need to talk.'  
  
Rather than argue - he knew the Weasley temperament well - Snape sat, fairly certain that he knew why the redhead was there. Ron glared down at him.  
  
'You have got to start treating Hermione better, Professor,' he said, spitting the title with distaste. 'I don't know what you've done, but I've just spent the last four hours with her sobbing on me, and not able to get one single coherent word out of her!'  
  
Snape opened his mouth to reply, cut off by Ron's finger under his nose again.  
  
'I'm not finished. You know how bad Hermione's year has been, you know how hard she took what she had to do, and how brave she's been to keep going,' he listed, his face flushed with anger. 'I think the least you could do is treat her with a little respect, may be even understanding. I know for a fact that Hermione thinks very highly of you, and your opinion means a lot to her. She's spent the last few months trying to convince me that you're not such a bad person, and I almost believed her. And then you reduce her to tears, shred her self-confidence and she's back where she started. You're a nasty, arrogant, heartless bastard, Snape, and I swear, if you hurt Hermione again, I'll give you a beating you'll never forget!'  
  
Snape watched as this tirade wound to a close, feeling inordinately guilty for upsetting Hermione and dragging Ron into their problems.  
  
'Finished?' he asked quietly, not a trace of his usual sarcasm evident.  
  
Ron glared for a moment before nodding.  
  
'Yes,' he said, throwing himself into a chair opposite his former Potions professor.  
  
'As you are well aware, I do respect Miss Granger's fortitude and endurance, and am not at all proud of myself for upsetting her,' he began, then stopped, wondering if he could admit to her best friend what he couldn't to her.  
  
He stood, and moved to the fireplace, gazing into the flames to hide his pain and shock at the damage his hasty words had done. Ron watched him suspiciously, still slightly afraid of the forbidding man before him. Snape sighed.  
  
'I assure you, I deeply regret my words to her this afternoon,' he said softly. 'I had intended to put it straight when I'd tidied up in the workroom, but by then she had left the building, and I couldn't find her. I have behaved appallingly towards Hermione in the past few weeks, and I am very sorry for it. However, I do not appreciate your coming here without the full facts and presuming to know what's going on!'  
  
Ron winced at the harsh words, knowing that he had gone too far. Snape turned back to the fire, steeling himself for what he was about to say.  
  
'I would ask you, Mr Weasley, that none of what I say here goes any further.'  
  
Ron nodded slowly, perceptive enough to realise that this was a delicate situation.  
  
'Alright, Professor.'  
  
Still facing the flames, Snape swallowed, forcing the words out.  
  
'I love Hermione, and I have no wish to drag her into my life, which, needless to say, has not been the most pure. I'm sure you will be aware that, a few weeks ago, I almost kissed her, saved only by the timely arrival of the Headmaster. I do not want to see Hermione destroyed by me, and indifference is the only way I can ensure it doesn't happen. My reaction today was due to the fact that she could have been hurt, and I was worried for her. That, Mr Weasley, is the truth, pure and simple.'  
  
Ron was speechless. Snape loved Hermione? He could see why the Potions Master would want to protect her, the same way Ron himself would. He stood, braving the glare to place a hand on Snape's shoulder.  
  
'I understand, Professor,' he said quietly. 'But Hermione's a big girl now, and she can make her own decisions. She's faced the worst and come out of it. What makes you think she needs protecting? Let her decide what's best for Hermione. I know I have, and it was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. But it was the best I could. You should try it, sir.'  
  
He produced a handful of Floo powder from his pocket and threw it into the fire. Snape's hand shot out, preventing him from stepping into the flames.  
  
'Where is Hermione now?' he asked.  
  
Ron snorted.  
  
'Mum's fussing over her,' he said, amused. 'Look, you two need some time apart, so we'll keep her with us over the weekend, alright? Just you think about what I said. It might work.'  
  
Snape nodded slowly, releasing Ron's arm and letting the young man step into the green fire.  
  
'Thank you,' he said quietly, as Ron disappeared.  
  
For a long while, he gazed at the flames, wondering if Hermione's friend was right.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Parvati squealed with delight, almost pouncing on a swatch of crushed velvet.  
  
'Hermione, you'd look stunning in this!'  
  
Hermione and Lavender exchanged a weary sigh and moved to stand beside their friend as she enthused over the rich cloth. They'd been dragged into London to be measured for the wedding dresses, and now Parvati was exclaiming over material in an effort to decide what colour her bridesmaids should wear.  
  
Lavender hid a yawn, grinning as Hermione found herself beset by dressmakers, holding the blood-red material against her and making comments on her colouring and shape. Hermione gave her a good-natured scowl, knowing that Parvati hadn't yet found a material for her other bridesmaid's dress to be made up in.  
  
Finally, after going on six hours of wandering the aisles of the haberdashery, Parvati made her decisions and paid for the dresses, which would be made up and sent to the Burrow when they were ready. She and Ron had already decided to be married in his back garden, an arrangement Molly Weasley had found highly amusing.  
  
Seeing how tired her friends were, Parvati was all apologies, and insisted on taking them to dinner, ushering them into the Leaky Cauldron with as much enthusiasm as she'd had when shopping. As they sat down, Hermione became immediately aware of a certain Potions Master sitting a couple of tables away.  
  
Snape had noticed the girls as soon as they'd come in, feeling his heart leap at seeing Hermione again. She looked weary but happy, glancing around at the other tables as she sat down. Her eyes locked with his and he nodded pleasantly to her, a slight smile quirking at his lips. Hesitantly she smiled back, returning his nod before Lavender Brown captured her attention once again.  
  
He felt himself relax, she wasn't the type to hold a grudge. He was himself in London to stock up on supplies, and to investigate a new potion's warehouse that had opened near Gringotts in Gnorm Alley. It had turned out not to be worth the effort, a disappointment, to say the least. But he was glad he had made the effort, simply for the pleasure of seeing Hermione again.  
  
He glanced up, and was pleased to see her laughing with her friends, an amused smile lighting her face. It had been too long since he'd heard her laughter, or seen her smile turned on him. He'd thought long and hard about what Ron had told him, recognising the wisdom in his words. Hermione was old enough to make her own decisions, and it was about time he let her. If she didn't want him, so be it, but until she told him so, to his face, he reserved the right to hope for what he didn't deserve.  
  
*~*~*  
  
The day of the wedding had finally arrived. Hermione had Floo'd to the Burrow just in time to prevent a rather phenomenal case of nerves from prompting Parvati to run for her life. After consulting with Charlie and finding out that Ron was in exactly the same way, she'd sent Ginny to Hogwarts with a request for some sort of calming potion from Snape, who had obliged. The two of them were now very serene, and everything was moving along calmly once more.  
  
The dresses had been brought out and put on, the girls exclaiming over how beautiful each other looked, and especially over Parvati. She was the picture of beauty, from her shining hair piled up under a soft veil, to the white gown that hugged every curve, and her delicate satin slippers. As last minute adjustments were made, noises from the kitchen downstairs announced the arrivals of the first guests.  
  
Ron was waiting in the garden with his brothers, trying to ignore the teasing, secure in the knowledge that he was the first one of them to actually take the plunge and get married. The garden had been de-gnomed, Hermione sending Crookshanks over the night before to help, since the ginger tom adored chasing the knobbly creatures.  
  
Friends and family gathered together, forming a wide circle around the anxious groom. Ron swallowed nervously as his brothers moved away to form a pentacle around him, inside the circle, with Padma, Parvati's sister. Between them stood those who had been asked to bless the pair as they began their life together.  
  
The hush that fell over the garden as Parvati ventured out into the spring sunshine was awe-inspiring. Hermione later swore that she'd never seen Ron's jaw drop quite so low in all her life. Taking her place between Gred and Forge - they were wearing identical robes, so not even their mother could tell them apart - she had a wonderful view of her two friends as they made their commitment.  
  
A wizard's wedding is not an intricate ceremony performed by a priest, but simply an exchange of vows spoken by the couple to one another in front of witnesses. The family gives their blessing to the pair, and a ring is given to the bride as a sign of never-ending love.  
  
Hermione could see Ron shaking as he took Parvati's hands in his. He winked at her, his blue eyes twinkling like Dumbledore's.  
  
'Parvati,' he said, his voice shaking. 'There's nothing I can say that could possibly express how happy you made me the day you agreed to be my wife. It even rivals the day I made Beater for the Quidditch team.'  
  
There was scattered laughter amongst those gathered around them.  
  
'Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I love you, Parvati, and I want you beside me forever.'  
  
Blushing, Parvati drew in a deep breath, smiling up into her lover's eyes.  
  
'No one would ever have guessed we'd end up together, would they? But we have, and I have so much to be thankful for. Ron, you've taught me so much, and I still have lots more to learn. I want us to be like Dumbledore and McGonagall, because I love you with my heart and soul.'  
  
Eyes glowing with deep love, Ron leant down and kissed her, holding her close as their families came forward.  
  
'Together we stand to lay our blessing on the union of Ron and Parvati, and wish them joy in their lives together. By Merlin, and Avalon, they are united.'  
  
Tears shone in Parvati's eyes as Ron slipped a simple gold band on her finger, pulling her close for the kiss that would seal their union before all present. The Burrow echoed with applause, friends and family rising to greet the new couple as they made their way into the house, together.  
  
*~*~*  
  
That was a long one, wasn't it? Anyway, only one more chapter to go! Will they get together, or will Hermione have changed the future forever? To find out, click on the little blue button and review! Make me believe that you really need to know! 


	30. Heartfelt Confessions

Spot the quote from Moulin Rouge. Does that count as a disclaimer?  
  
*~*~*  
  
Dumbledore looked up in surprise as Hermione stumbled out of his fireplace. She looked about her in confusion, grinning sheepishly when she realised where she was.  
  
'Oops, wrong fireplace.'  
  
He smiled at her.  
  
'Welcome back, Hermione,' he said, rising to offer her a seat. 'How was the wedding?'  
  
Hermione's smile softened as she thought back on the day.  
  
'It was beautiful,' she said finally. 'They're so much in love, it's almost obscene.'  
  
Dumbledore laughed, startling Fawkes, who turned to give Hermione a baleful stare. She gently stroked his feathers, feeling grateful for the phoenix. Without his attempt to heal her breaking heart, she would never have made the trip into the future, and fallen in love with the mysterious Potions Master. He cooed softly, nudging his head against her fingers.  
  
'I take it the twins didn't pull anything?' the Headmaster asked, in a voice slightly tinged with disappointment.  
  
Hermione giggled.  
  
'The day wouldn't have been complete if they hadn't,' she assured him. 'They transfigured Parvati's bouquet into a PortKey. When Lavender caught it, she disappeared, ending up in the middle of Wales! She was spitting feathers, it was hilarious!'  
  
They laughed together, Hermione almost incoherent as she recalled the twins' antics. Then she sobered, remembering other times that had touched her.  
  
'Neville and Ginny are engaged, but Molly's insisting that they wait until Ginny finishes Hogwarts,' she informed Dumbledore, who was all ears. 'And Ron made sure we remembered the people who should have been there.'  
  
She fell silent, remembering Harry, and Seamus, and all the others who had fallen to Voldemort's power and lust for revenge. Dumbledore sensed the change in her mood, seeing the gloom that settled over his young friend.  
  
'He missed you today,' he said softly.  
  
Hermione snorted, finding that thought highly amusing.  
  
'I very much doubt it,' she denied, pressing down on the surge of hope and love that rose in her breast. 'He probably didn't even notice I was gone.'  
  
'Well, yes, he did ask me just how long you were planning on sleeping in today,' Dumbledore conceded, seeing the triumphant smile on her face as an encouraging sign.  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione found herself gazing into the fire, and wishing that Snape had even a fraction of the warmth the dancing flames emitted. Dumbledore sighed.  
  
'Have you told him yet, Hermione?'  
  
She looked up, into kindly blue eyes that sparkled with affection for her. Sadly, she shook her head, unsure if she would ever admit her feelings to the forbidding man.  
  
'You must tell him, my dear, if you are ever to capture the joy of the future you described to me.'  
  
'Why does it have to be me who tells him?' Hermione complained suddenly. 'Why shouldn't he tell me?'  
  
Dumbledore smiled gently at her self-righteous outburst.  
  
'Because he does not feel that he deserves you,' he offered, seeing her grow angry at Snape's stupidity. 'He will not make a definite attempt to woo you because of some perceived threat to your innocence.'  
  
'What gives him the right to make decisions for me?' she demanded angrily. 'I'll decide who does and doesn't deserve me, and I most certainly am not innocent after the year I've just had!'  
  
'So tell him, Hermione. Give him a reason to open up to you.'  
  
Suddenly she looked tiny, curled up in his armchair, her eyes lost and haunted.  
  
'I can't,' she whispered, her voice trembling.  
  
Dumbledore frowned.  
  
'Why?'  
  
Hermione swallowed, trying to explain her fears to the old man before her.  
  
'Because . . . because being in love puts you in a vulnerable position,' she murmured, staring at the floor. 'It leaves you open to hurt and misery, and I've had quite enough of that for the last year.'  
  
'My dear, Severus is just as vulnerable as you are.'  
  
Hermione's head came up as her eyes moved to lock with his.  
  
'Is he? He doesn't show it. I never know if he's angry, or sad, or just being normal. How can I open up to someone who never shows me how they're feeling? Everyone has that insecurity, and with anyone else, I'd be fine. But he doesn't seem to feel that vulnerability, Albus. He frightens me.'  
  
Dumbledore watched as she struggled with her fears, seeing now to the bottom of her fight to reveal her love for his friend. He smiled kindly at her.  
  
'Hermione, facing up to your fears is what you have to do to live this life,' he said quietly, letting the import of his words sink in. 'Look at what you have faced. You were afraid that Voldemort spoke the truth about his relationship to you; you survived it. You faced the fear that he would try to convert you; you defied him. You walked into the future with an open mind, not knowing what you would find there.  
  
'I know, love can be the most destructive influence on your life. But it can also make your life complete. Think of all the people you have loved, or who have loved you. Think of Tom Riddle, for instance. He faced and overcame his fear of Voldemort to save your life. Was that foolish? Did he die so that you could spend the rest of your life hiding from all that frightened you?  
  
'No, because he knew that you have it in you to be whomever you want to be. I know you, Hermione. You do not want to be a shy, frightened child, living her life through the joys and woes of others. You want the love that Severus can give you, and you have a right to ask for it. If you don't take that chance, this love that you are so carefully preserving will tear you apart. Believe me, Hermione. The greatest thing you will ever learn is to love, and be loved in return.'  
  
Hermione nodded slowly, seeing the truth in his words. Dumbledore watched as she took it all in, seeing strength and resolve make themselves known on her lovely face.  
  
'Go to him, child. Tell him before you have a chance to hide again.'  
  
For a long while after Hermione had left, Dumbledore sat, staring at the chair where she had sat. Minerva came in, tugging the pins from her tight bun, and found him contemplating the upholstery.  
  
'Whatever is the matter, Albus?'  
  
He looked up and smiled gently.  
  
'Nothing, my love. Nothing at all.'  
  
*~*~*  
  
Snape stretched wearily, the bones in his neck clicking as he dragged himself out of the armchair to replace the book he had just finished on the shelves of his bookcase. The candle beside him guttered in the slight breeze he created stalking past it, and went out, leaving only the light of the fire to illuminate the room. He sighed, bending to light a taper from the dancing flames.  
  
A timid knock on the door startled him, and he dropped the taper with a muttered oath, stamping out the flames calmly. It was the Easter holidays, who would be knocking on his door at this time of night? It had better not be a student, he growled to himself, stalking over to the door, and pulling it open violently.  
  
On the threshold stood Hermione, looking very nervous and quite scared, in a beautiful blood-red gown. Belatedly, he remembered the wedding, his breath catching his throat at the sight of her.  
  
'Hermione,' he said in surprise, 'what brings you down here so late?'  
  
She took a deep breath, letting out shudderingly slow.  
  
'I have something I need to say to you, and if I don't say it now, I never will,' she said quietly, looking pointedly at the floor. 'May I come in?'  
  
Snape stepped aside, slightly worried by her odd behaviour.  
  
'By all means, do.'  
  
She slipped past him, into the warmth of his apartments. Snape shut the door, confused but curious.  
  
'What is it you wanted to say, Hermione?'  
  
The young woman turned away from him, and he was struck once again by how tiny she really was. She seemed twice as lost and lonely as usual this evening, a combination that tugged at his heart.  
  
'Hermione?'  
  
Another long shuddering breath. She turned to face him, locking her eyes with his.  
  
'I should have said this a long time ago, Severus,' she began, her voice level, but throbbing with emotion. 'You wanted to know where I was last summer? I told you when you were unconscious, but I guess you didn't hear me. I was in the future, with you and me, and . . . our children.'  
  
She swallowed, watching his face carefully, as if at the first sign of temper, she would bolt. Snape remained silent, impassive, despite the sudden soaring of his heart.  
  
'We were married, and happy together. I spent two weeks there, and I saw a side to you that would have sworn didn't exist. I realised then that I wanted to see that side of my version of you, I wanted to know that part you that you keep hidden away.  
  
'Thinking back, it's always been you who was there for me through the hardest times. When I blamed myself for Harry's circumstances, you set me straight. You came back for me when I thought I was being left behind. When the pain from my memories was too much, you were the one who held me, who protected me from myself. I love you, and I always will.'  
  
Snape's jaw dropped as the words that he so longed to hear rolled off Hermione's tongue.  
  
'No, scratch that, I ache for you,' she corrected. 'You see, I know that you love me, I've seen the future we could have, and it hurts, knowing that you're denying us that future by hiding your heart away from me. Is life with me so terrible to contemplate that you would rather break our hearts than try it?'  
  
Words of love formed in Snape's throat, only to die on his tongue. How could he tell her how much he loved her when she already knew him so well? Tears were slowly rolling down her cheeks, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her until the pain went away. Knowing that he was the cause of that pain tore at his heart.  
  
'Hermione . . .'  
  
She touched shaking fingers to his lips, silencing him.  
  
'I don't want to hear that you don't deserve me, that I'm too innocent,' she told him. 'If you truly don't want me, don't love me, then say it to my face, and I'll leave. I won't come back to torment you, and we'll never speak of it again.'  
  
'Hermione, I . . .'  
  
She gazed up into his eyes, a defenceless vulnerable child who needed him to protect her. To love her.  
  
'Just say it, Severus. Or kiss me.'  
  
He looked down at her, and suddenly could not imagine a world where he wouldn't have her. Before him stretched years of waking up beside her, of basking in the knowledge that she loved him, of sharing their lives together. The bleakness of the alternative was too terrible to imagine.  
  
Almost without knowing it, he grasped her chin, lifting it gently until her lips touched his, brushing lightly together and wiping months of pain and heartache from their minds. Suddenly she sobbed, and he pulled back to see her smiling through her tears.  
  
'You'll never know how scared I was that you'd say no,' she laughed, wiping the tears from her cheeks.  
  
'You'd be surprised,' he growled, and pulled her close to kiss her again, this time with all the longing and love that he had suppressed. She pressed herself to him, her slender frame fitting perfectly within the curve of his arms as he tenderly explored her.  
  
Hours later, as he lay beside her, stroking the chestnut curls that adorned her tousled head, Snape finally said the words that had plagued him for over two years. He leant close to her ear, smiling as she turned unconsciously towards him, and whispered,  
  
'I love you.'  
  
*~*~*  
  
Dumbledore swung his wife onto the dance-floor, slipping easily into the time-honoured traditional steps. It had been a day of great joy, tinged with sadness. So many people had gathered to wish happiness on the couple, and yet tears had been shed for those who should have been there.  
  
Ron could be seen teasing Poppy Pomfrey into dancing with him in a corner of the room, while others moved about the room, sharing their hopes and dreams, and the joy that shone in every life. Remus was dancing with Molly Weasley, who had cried all the way through the ceremony as if it was one of her own children getting married. In a corner, Rhys was laughing at Sirius as he tried to have a serious conversation with her, having given up on trying to seduce the Welsh witch. Even Neville and Ginny had managed to make it to the wedding, their lives having become somewhat more hectic since leaving Hogwarts and getting married themselves.  
  
He glanced over to where the bride and groom were posing for a portrait. Severus Snape was happier than the Headmaster had ever seen him, twice over since his young wife had expressed a wish to teach at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had finally acquiesced and given Snape the much coveted Defence Against the Dark Arts position, since Rhys had returned to the Aurors. Hermione had completed her year's apprenticeship with flying colours and was more than capable of teaching her husband's subject.  
  
Minerva smiled up at him, laying her greying head on his aged shoulder. He sighed softly. He was glad for his Minerva. She had kept him on the straight and narrow for most of his life. Their love would never hold the fire and passion of the love the Snapes shared, but would always bind them closely, a deep devotion that would outweigh all other commitments but one.  
Hogwarts. Soon the new term would begin, and they would have not one, but two Professor Snapes under their roof. He chuckled, wondering how the students would take that. He felt certain the newly weds were in for a rocky road. Still, who knew? Perhaps they would each teach the other about life, and love.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. Who would have thought, when she first stepped over the threshold of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft And Wizardry, that Hermione Granger would have such a profound impact on so many lives? Hers would be a life to remember, for many years to come. . . 


End file.
